The Loudest Silence
by SwanInProgress
Summary: Jenna didn't have a daring bone in her pudgy body - that is until she plops down in Middle Earth, loses her voice to the Valar, and has to change the fate of three Dwarves. (Thorin/OC)
1. The Arrival

_***EDIT* It's been a while since I've done this, and I forgot! Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters. There.**_

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 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter One**

The beginning of my tale was somewhat more… upsetting, than I would have expected. Looking back on it, I thought that if something of this magnitude occurred, it would've been in my dream future – where of course I would be athletic, have lost all my weight, graduated college, learned the art of fighting, and gained mad survival techniques.

My actual story, however, started when I was chubby, self-conscious, and barely able to speak up for myself, let alone fight for my life. I was basically the human equivalent of a potato. Or, it felt like it anyway.

I had been going through a rough patch, like most University students do at some point or another: My grades were slipping down a slope from which they would never return. My cruddy apartment was the vision of gloom. My body had become nothing but pudge from sitting around doing homework, combined with my bad habit of stress-eating. My job at the local grocery store was doing nothing to help this rough patch either, as it was becoming blatantly obvious that I would be stuck working there my entire life.

Things were… not necessarily good, but they could have been much worse. I just didn't see it that way at the time. I was rapidly falling into depression and your vision is always murky during depression. Everything is pointless, you think you're a failure, your body image mocks you, blah, blah. It goes on, until something happens to plant an awful idea in your head. It can be the smallest thing, too.

In my case, it was a gaggle of girls on my walk home. I, in all my depressed glory – oversized black hoodie, baggy sweatpants, recently cropped off hair – was not paying attention to where I was going on that cloudy day. I was thinking about how soon I could get home to read the book that I was toting around in my backpack, but I was also thinking about the final grades I had received that day. Or rather, I was hoping to get home and read so as to _forget_ the grades I had received.

It was at that point that I had a small collision with one of the girls, sending us stumbling backwards. Of course, it had to be a tall, lanky, raven-haired goddess who dropped her iPhone upon collision.

I quickly offered a, "Sorry," as I awkwardly bent to pick it up for her. The girl grabbed it up quickly before I could even get close, checking it for damage, then sent a glare my way as we straightened ourselves.

"Watch where you're going next time, fatass. I just got this thing," she snapped.

My jaw all but dropped at her unneeded insult, as she brushed off her sporty jacket like my mere touch may have ruined the integrity of the material. The other two with her had similar looks on their faces. I was so not in the mood to deal with this.

"Look, it's not broken and I said I was so - " I began.

She interrupted, giving me a once over as she spoke. "Why are you even outside? I would drink a bottle of bleach before I let anyone see me like that."

Ouch. I opened my mouth to say something – anything – to this shallow twit, but found myself too embarrassed to retort. So my mouth just hung open for a moment before I closed it again. She was right, I thought. I really was a sad sight.

They turned and walked away, huffing to themselves, as if I had committed the crime of the century just by existing. I heard an, "Oh my God, she didn't break it, did she?" followed by, "No, but… ugh, please you guys – promise you'll end me if I ever become that pathetic." Then they were out of earshot, and I was still standing there on the sidewalk like an idiot.

I thought about going after them, telling them off, giving them a piece of my mind. They deserved to hear whatever tongue lashing I could give them. But in the end, I just turned away with tears prickling the corners of my eyes and continued my walk home. Every time it came down to word-to-word combat, I failed miserably. The thought of how pathetic I was kept crawling back into my mind though, and I couldn't shake it. What was the point anymore? My life wasn't going anywhere. My friends had all moved away. My mom didn't even talk to me anymore since my grades began plummeting. My dead-end job would basically be my life til I died. Random strangers even thought I looked pathetic. Albeit, shallow twits, but still people. (Who, for some reason, I still cared about the opinions of back then?)

It was a gross moment for me.

The icing on the cake, though, was when it started to rain. The clouds had been threatening the town with a downpour for quite some time, but for some reason, just then seemed like an appropriate moment to try and drown me. My mood worsened. I began actually crying.

To this day, I'm still not sure what would have happened had I made it home. If I would have sat and cried, turning out totally fine in the end, or if I would have gone home and… well. There's no way of knowing, because I never did make it back to my apartment.

I was shuffling down the sidewalk, road on one side, grass on the other, when a wave of dizziness hit me. I didn't think anything of it at first, willing to blame stress or fatigue. But then it just got worse. I had to slow my steps from their already snail-like pace so that I wouldn't fall over, but that was futile too.

One second I was standing, and the next, my face was trying to have a make-out session with the wet grass. Black dots began spotting in the corners of my vision, panic welling up inside me as I attempted to get up. I couldn't pass out there, in the middle of town. What if someone came by and stole my backpack while I was unconscious? What if I woke up naked? Oh lord, what if someone stole my backpack _and_ I woke up naked?

There were so many "what if's" running through my brain, and none of them actually happened. What _did_ happen was so far out of my "what if" zone that it probably had to get a passport.

I blacked out. I have no idea how much time passed while I was unconscious, but it couldn't have been very long (I hoped). I woke up still feeling dizzy, and took a moment before I opened my eyes again, trying to make the world stop spinning. When I was finally somewhat stable, I realized that I could no longer feel rain pelting down. In fact, I could hear birds chirping away and trees rustling.

I sat up slowly, noting that my backpack and my clothes were still on me – Thank God – but also noting that I was no longer where I should have been. My eyes widened.

It was just forest, all around me. Thick green grass layered the ground with color, the occasional pile of leaves, twigs, and bushes spotting it with other shades. There were trees in every direction, some farther apart than others, but it was very much a forest. My heart was going crazy and my breathing sped up. I was on the edge of a small clearing of some kind, possibly twenty to thirty feet wide from what I could tell in my panicked stupor. Sunlight filtered down on me as some feathery twerps bounced around on branches, paranoid of my presence.

I gazed at my surroundings, dumbfounded, running a hand through my disheveled pixie cut. I stood up, prepared to whip my phone out and call the police.

But that's when I saw her.

Standing on the opposite side of the clearing, she was like something straight out of a fairytale – which, knowing what I know now, makes sense. The words 'elegant' and 'ghost' came to mind immediately, seeing as how this woman was almost transparent. She was tall and willowy, with a heart-shaped face and rosy lips. Her hair hung in fiery waves well past her waist, and atop her head sat a delicate gathering of flowers – some yellow, some purple, and a few small blue ones. I had never paid attention to botany, but they looked healthy and very much alive for their placement on her head. There was an unearthly shine about her that radiated from every inch of her body. Her deep emerald gown, adorned with a trailing pattern of leaves in gold thread, even seemed to glow with it. Every part of this magnificent woman called out _life_ and _vitality,_ despite her phantom-like consistency.

Her eyes though. I think her eyes are what enraptured me the most. Bright, shining amber. Their color was beautiful, but the wisdom, the pure _age_ that came through was mind-blowing. I could only stare like a dodo. For all my previous panic at waking up in a forest, her presence set me at ease. I can't explain it, but as soon as I laid eyes on her, the tension in my body seemed to melt away.

I opened my mouth to say hello, but nothing came out. Yes, excellent start. I chalked this silence up to my lack of finesse with people.

Her face produced a delicate smile. _"I'm glad you have arrived safely, my child."_

When her lips didn't move to form the words, my eyebrows rose up. I glanced around the clearing one more time, to make sure it hadn't been someone else that spoke – and partially to make sure I wasn't losing it. This was some Professor Xavier level stuff going on.

Following up her odd statement, I wanted to ask, "Arrived where, exactly?" But found that I couldn't. Legitimately could not get the words out. Like, vocal chords not obeying when I tried to speak. This was cause for worry.

 _"You will have answers soon,"_ she responded, obviously knowing what was going through my head at that moment. _"You know this place, though you have never set foot in this land. It is both familiar and foreign. I have no doubt that you will thrive, however, and do what is needed of you."_

That's all I wanted right then. Riddles. _What does that even mean?_ I thought. I don't know why I doubted she could read minds. Miss Xavier over here…

In reply, her smile faded into an almost sorrowful look, and she said, _"A great wrong must be righted, young one. The Valar have chosen you to weave a different fate for this story, whether it end in grief or gladness."_

…my brain train slid to a halt.

 _The Valar?_ I asked silently, skeptical of what just entered my ears. I recognized Tolkien talk when I heard it, and a creeping sense of – dread? Anticipation? Anxiety? – _something_ overcame my body.

 _"We have only set one rule in place: You cannot create words, be it with voice or ink, until the fulfillment of this task. Your silence is the only payment required."_

 _We? Payment? What…?_ Was this chick saying she was one of Tolkien's legendary beings? Legendary – fictional – beings? And why the hell did I have to pay? Pay for what? I hadn't agreed to anything yet!

The woman – whoever or _what_ ever she was – seemed to understand my frustration. A slender, translucent hand rose, palm forward, instantly ceasing my mental ramble. A small smile showed on her lips as she spoke. _"We have given you a gift in order to mend this tale, and in turn, mend yourself. Actions often speak much louder than words, and it would do you good to remember that throughout your journey."_

A sparkle in those eyes warmed my heart. For a moment, I forgot why I was upset.

 _"Good luck, young one."_

Without warning, the clearing was silent and empty again. The wind rustled some leaves. A bird chirped somewhere. Another bird answered. I stared at the spot where the glowing woman had stood, and remained confused and motionless for a good long while. The calm feeling that she spread across the area was gone, having fled along with her. It was back to just me and my ever mounting uncertainty at the situation.

I ran through her words over and over again in my head, knowing that – if she was telling the truth – I had just spoken with one of the Valar. Of course, there was the alternative of trying to find a hologram machine somewhere in the woods, and maybe a fancy speaker that could project sound into your brain meat, but somehow I knew that was not what happened. The woman had radiated magic, warmth, and safety. That's not something you can just… cook up with speakers. I knew I wasn't dreaming, either. My clothes were still damp from the rain, I could feel the breeze and the sunlight, and I could still feel the vague stinging in my eyes from when I had cried. Nope. Not a dream.

Running over my options, I finally decided that none of my many questions would be answered by just standing there. If I was – Lord forbid – actually in Middle Earth, I had no idea which forest I was in, what mountain range I was beside, or how far away I was from relative safety. For all I knew, Mordor could be right around the corner. (I was desperately hoping that the Valar wouldn't have dropped me off at someplace like that, but you never knew.)

I mean, how far away could the nearest sign of people be?

Well…

I wound up wandering for hours.

Don't even ask me how many exactly, but it was enough to make me question my sanity. I began thinking that maybe I had imagined the whole thing. Maybe I had been drugged, and dropped off in the woods for dead. But what would have been the point of that? I checked my backpack before heading out and it still had all my belongings – wallet, notebooks, calculator, pens, various other crap – so it couldn't have been a theft.

Every time I began to think that meeting hadn't happened though, I would try to speak, always with the same result. Nothing. No sound. My encounter had been real, and I was really stuck without a voice until… When did she say? Until 'the fulfillment of this task'? Which could mean a number of things, honestly. How many 'tasks' did Tolkien's characters have to go through, assuming I really was in Middle Earth? Was I supposed to help the Fellowship? Help destroy the One Ring? But she had said 'A great wrong must be righted,' so that couldn't be it. Frodo and Sam destroy the Ring perfectly well, albeit short a finger and gaining extreme PTSD.

Maybe it wasn't _Lord of the Rings_ then. Was I supposed to go with Bilbo Baggins on his adventure? Why would I need to change…?

I stopped my walk, mid-thought. Reaching up to my left arm, I rubbed the tattoo that I knew resided underneath my clothing. I had gotten it almost a year prior, nearly forgetting it was there. Was _that_ why she brought me here…?

I thought on this for longer than I should have. Finally I began walking again, with a suspicion of why I was there planted in my brain, but the sun was already making its descent for the evening. I hiked as far as I could in one direction, hoping to find a sign of civilization, as the sunlight was fading. Nighttime in a chilly forest? With no idea what could be out there? Sounded great. Absolutely fantastic. Maybe my sarcasm could keep me warm through the night.

I was hungry, but I wanted to save my granola bars for tomorrow, in case I had to wander all day again, and I was tired. Right as I decided to give up and rest for the night, I saw a small pillar of smoke in the distance, rising from the trees. Yes! People! Maybe they could direct me to a road, or give me food or something. Or it was just a forest fire and I was about to die.

I started forward quickly, borderline jovial, but then remembered where I was (or where I _supposedly_ was). Would people here be friendly to a strange girl who couldn't speak? Or a more worrisome thought: Would they even be people? Or could they be Orcs? Ugh… Right when I thought I would get a break.

Cautiously, I continued towards the smoke. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear water running. Large creek? River? I didn't know for sure. In the ever-dimming twilight, it became hard to pick my way through the shrubbery as quietly as I had been before. I was biting my lip with nervousness, not knowing what might await me, when I saw the orange glow of a campfire. The light was partially shrouded by bushes and low hanging trees, so I couldn't tell who it belonged to. Of course.

I crept nearer, basically at a snail's pace by that point. There were voices talking, though it only sounded like two, male from what I could tell. Abruptly, I heard a loud laugh, causing me to jump in surprise. The leaves on the ground shuffled with my movement, and I froze, eyes wide, when the camping area grew silent. _Shit._

There was the sound of quick footsteps, and before I could get my ass in gear to either A.) run away or B.) look a little less suspicious, a figure poked through the foliage. The firelight behind him prevented me from seeing any real details, but he was much taller than me. Suddenly he grabbed my arm. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I pulled back, and everything in my body was telling me to escape, but before I knew it, I was dragged through the bushes into the small circle of trees.

"Look what I found snooping, Jean," the tall one with a death grip on my arm said. In the firelight, I could now tell he was in his late twenties, maybe thirties, with light hair and squinty eyes that I did not like. His outfit was definitely medieval though, and for the first time, I really _truly_ believed I was in a different world. Nobody wore tunics like that at home, except maybe to renaissance festivals and certainly not to camp in.

The other one – Jean, apparently – looked up from his spot by the fire. He was maybe a few years older than the other with the same peculiar style of clothing, but he had dark, short hair. He quirked an eyebrow at my shaking form. Yes, I was definitely shaking, I am sad to say.

"You always find odd ones, don't you?" Jean said, looking me up and down with the same squinty eyes. I guessed that they were related, brothers maybe? I really didn't care. I just wanted to be on my way, trusting my gut feeling over anything right then.

"Yeah, that's true. But she's not bad, right?" the blonde one asked. "Considering she fell into our laps and all."

The older huffed in a bored way, looking back down to what he was doing. Skinning a small animal of some kind. Rabbit?

"I suppose," he replied, then stared at the fire for a second, before turning his gaze back to us. "At least make sure this one is alone. You remember what happened last time you didn't check."

The one other barked a laugh that I recognized from before, leaning over to peek through the bushes we had just come from. "Oh yes! Her husband was not pleased."

This was quickly heading in a direction that set my stomach roiling. I tugged again, digging my feet into the ground. He glanced down at me like I was dog who couldn't get a chew toy away from him.

"I suggest you get it over with, Gavin," Jean muttered, agitated.

"Alright, alright," the blonde – Gavin – conceded. "I don't even think she understands us though. Hasn't said one word this entire time. Might make it easier to - "

I snapped out of my terrified stupor, not even wanting to hear the end of that sentence. Of course, _of course_ the first people I run into are disgusting perverts. I jerked my entire body to try and get out of his grip, which only resulted in him grabbing my other arm as well to hold me still. When I heard the noise of Jean standing, I knew that my window of escape was very small, because there was no way I could take on both of them.

I quickly kicked upward with my knee, and given my height versus his, this was more difficult than anticipated. I hit my target though, causing him to double over cursing, one hand flying to his crotch. The hand that remained was painfully tight so I twisted, slamming my free elbow into his face.

There was a sickening _CRACK_ and he relinquished his grip in favor of howling, covering his face. It would have been amusing had I not been scared to death. As I stumbled away to run, I only got a few feet before another hand grabbed my wrist. When I turned to face my assailant, I was greeted by the sight of an aggrivated Jean. And of course, a big-ass hunting knife.

My heart leapt into my throat. This was it. It hadn't even started and it was already over.

"Slice her open, Jean! She broke my fuckin' nose!" the younger one snarled through now bloody hands.

Jean was calmer, and yet, somehow more terrifying, in his reply. "I've told you before not to play around. Just because you lost your chance doesn't mean I have to forfeit mine as well."

 _Oh hell no!_ I screamed internally, flinging my whole body in the opposite direction. His grip on my wrist didn't give though, an angry Gavin was heading over, and panic engulfed me. So I bit down on Jean's hand, drawing blood, and boy did I pay for it.

He hissed through his teeth, slashing the knife at me as I yanked myself from his death grip. The blade sliced through the side of my arm, but had I not moved, I would have probably lost the whole freaking limb.

I scrambled away from that camp quicker than I had ever moved in my 21 years of existence, throwing myself through the bushes and into the forest. Angry shouts could be heard following me. My arm stung as I sprinted through the darkness, hitting low branches, barely able to see in what moonlight was coming through the treetops. I knew adrenaline was keeping me from feeling how bad the cut on my arm actually was. My initial thought was of how close the wound was to my tattoo, and something in the back of my mind really hoped it hadn't gotten screwed up by that maniac, since I had scrimped and saved to pay for it. Then my second thought was that my priorities on this situation were a little skewed.

Like I mentioned before, I was not athletic, and running for my life was draining me of what little energy I had in the first place. I was quickly losing steam and I could hear the two men gaining on me. Their legs were much longer and I was already out of breath, but there was something else I could hear too, becoming louder as I went.

The sound of rushing water, and lots of it at that.

Desperation made me surge forward when I saw the edge of the trees, and the sound of the water grew to a scary volume. More terrifying though was the thought of being caught by the rapidly approaching footsteps behind me, much too close for comfort. I knew how to swim somewhat better than most, and while the odds of drowning were high, my odds of death or worse if I got caught were much higher. The silver light in the sky allowed me to see just enough to know that there was a drop coming up, but I couldn't tell for sure how far, just that there was a river at the bottom. And hopefully no sharp rocks, otherwise this was going to suck.

I didn't allow myself to stop and think. I just ran until there was no more room, and jumped.

The drop couldn't have been more than fifteen feet, but while I was falling, it felt like fifty. I didn't really get a chance to wonder about that though, because as soon as I hit the water, I was fighting for my life all over again. I was submerged in the chilly water momentarily, kicking my way to the surface before an undercurrent could grab me. It was just a mass of rapids and torrents from then on, swimming as best as I could, trying to keep my head above the water. My wounded arm was burning, hindering my movements. My other limbs were swiftly becoming just as useless, cold seeping into my bones, draining my energy. I choked on the water as I was dragged under more and more often.

I thought I was going to die there. I cursed those perverted bastards from the forest. I cursed my lack of athleticism. I especially cursed the so-called _Valar_ who brought me there in the first place, for allowing me to believe I was in Middle Earth and then instantly killing me off. I mean, who the hell does that? What was the point of all that, if I was just going to drown in a river? It was all rather depressing.

Those dismal thoughts were the only thing I could focus on, until even those became a blur. The world was shimmering moonlight on deadly water, throwing me around like a weak little ragdoll.

At the last second, my body smacked into a large rock, and a flicker of hope sprouted in my chest. The boulder was barely big enough for me to drape myself over it before my limbs gave out. I was dizzy and my breathing was labored. My heartbeat thumped painfully in my ears as the water splashed around my legs, trying to get me back. Everything grew dim as I heard voices draw near – different voices than before.

I could only pray they were friendly.

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 _ **AN: Thank you so much for reading, and let me know what you guys think so far!**_


	2. The Reality

_**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! As soon as Fanfiction gets their review/reply bug fixed, I will be responding. (And a special thanks to LVOWL for helping me get over my anxiety over uploading this story!)**_

 _ **Thought I'd go ahead and give you guys another chapter to kick this thing off. 8D**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters!**_

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 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Two**

"It seems you were right. It really is a girl!"

"I thought you were just seeing things."

"Men kemgu gajum menu."

"Now don't act like it hasn't happened before."

"Bundul menu denapdul…"

Who was talking while I was trying to sleep?

"You've got a bit of blood there."

"It's not my blood…? Look at her arm! Give me something to stop the bleedin'!"

I could feel my arm being moved, my baggy sleeve being rolled up. There was suddenly pressure, but also searing pain. I couldn't help but flinch, despite my half-asleep state. I attempted to crack my eyes open to get a look at whoever was talking and messing with my wound, but nothing was coming into focus. There were three vague shapes standing around me, lit by the glow of a small fire somewhere nearby. The sky behind them was still dark.

"Easy, lass. You're safe now."

I struggled to keep conscious, but I was so tired. That voice sounded so familiar…? Friendly, even…? A memory somewhere stirred. My eyes flickered shut again.

When next I came to, it was daylight. I could hear the river not too far away, burbling in its mocking tone as I opened my eyes. The trees above me rustled lightly in the breeze and I realized that I was no longer laying on the massive rock, or anywhere in the water for that matter. I was on my back – minus a backpack – on grassy land. How on earth…?

Panic suddenly rose in my muddled head at the thought of Jean and Gavin being the ones to find me. But no, I assured myself. They likely wouldn't bother with pulling me from the river, and besides that, it definitely wasn't them who spoke earlier. Who did those voices belong to then?

I turned my head, noting my soggy backpack and sneakers a few feet from me. Beside them, a campfire with some grilling utensils – the heat of which I could slightly feel – and a few feet from my waterlogged items were three short, bearded men sitting on the opposite side of the fire. There were various bags and things strewn about, beside the trees, and one such tree had my black hoodie hanging over a branch to dry. The smell of food wafted over and I realized how hungry I was as I took in the scene.

One of the men was very rotund with bright ginger hair, and probably weighed the same as three of me (and I mean, I wasn't exactly a twig over here). Another had an odd looking hat with large wing-like flaps, a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck, and dark hair in two braids at his shoulders. The familiarity of it finally hit me like a cinderblock upon seeing the third person, who had a wild mane of black and white hair, but more importantly – a broken axe sticking out of his forehead.

I sat up quicker than I should have, wincing when my arm throbbed with the effort of pushing to an upright position. A blanket that I didn't realize had been draped over me slid off my torso, revealing my bland, maroon t-shirt. The cut hurt like a mofo, and my head spun for a second, but I was more concerned with who exactly I was staring at.

Not short men. No.

They were Dwarves.

More specifically, Dwarves that were supposed to be fictional.

I think my eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I sat there staring.

It only took them a moment to realize I had come to, though. When they did, I was instantly greeted by the one with the winged hat – who I already knew was Bofur. Who I shouldn't have known was Bofur. Because he wasn't supposed to be real and I wasn't supposed to deal with this kind of thing.

My reality tumbled like a Jenga tower. _Holy – !_ That woman had _actually_ dropped me in Middle Earth!

"Ah, you're awake! We were starting to worry!" he said in his kind, heavily accented tone. He set down his plate of – bacon? – and stood, dusting his hands off on his pants legs.

They must have mistaken my stillness and ogling for fear, because his movements slowed when I didn't react right away. He picked up a small plate that had been set to the side and cautiously made his way over to where I was sitting, putting his other hand out palm forward like one does with a wild animal. The other two stayed where they were, though they watched with interest.

"We don't mean ye any harm, lass," he assured me. "You were in quite the state when we found you. Right over there, in the river - " he tilted his head in the direction "- half drowned, arm bleeding like no tomorrow."

My brain may as well have been a chalupa for all the good it was doing me. The mention of my arm made me look numbly down at my t-shirt sleeve, slightly wadded up to accommodate their temporary fix. The wound was tightly wrapped in cloth, so I couldn't really see the extent of the damage, though I assumed it was somewhat bad considering the pain level. That, or I was just a wimp. Probably the latter.

Bofur had shuffled to where I was and kneeled down carefully, offering me the plate of food. "I don't doubt you're hungry after all that, whatever it may have been," he said, his familiar, mustached face an oddly good sight.

I stared at the proffered plate for a whole ten seconds before realizing I should probably grab it. When I did so, and opened my mouth to say thank you however, I abruptly remembered my voice dilemma, and just gave him a grateful smile instead, setting the plate on my lap.

"There's more where that came from, if you'll be needing it," spoke one of the other two from beside the fire, a bit quietly. I looked up to see Bombur, with his massive circular, braided beard and round nose. He made a timid gesture towards a large pan set up over the flames with yet more food cooking.

"Madaffatul khurm," suddenly came from the opposite side of the fire, accompanied by sudden hand motions. With the axe in his head and the two-toned hairdo, Bifur was very easy to recognize.

"Oh, you hush up," Bofur called back to the other. "You eat just as much as he does."

 _This is so bizarre,_ I thought as the dwarf sat on the ground a few feet from me. _Where is the Twilight Zone music?_ They were obviously the only three present, so the Company of Thorin Oakenshield couldn't have formed yet, otherwise there would be ten other Dwarves running around. (Not to mention a Hobbit and a Wizard.) So what part of the timeline did I fall into? Had they even been invited to go on that insane quest yet? Or was it still a long ways off? Better still, why was I not questioning my sanity at the acceptance of this whole scenario?

"Sorry 'bout that," Bofur said, returning his attention to me, interrupting my jumbled thoughts. "We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Bofur, that there's my brother Bombur, and that would be our cousin, Bifur. Looks a bit feral, but he's completely harmless, I swear."

Even though I already knew their names, the politeness was appreciated. I smiled again, my brain finally kicking into proper gear, and nodded this time to make sure he could tell I understood.

"What should we be callin' you, lass?" he questioned lightheartedly.

Oh great. Something that actually required talking. I bit my lip and stared at the ground, thinking of how to explain my situation. All I got was a tilt of the head from him when I tried to mouth the words. I knew I had never been very good at articulation, so that wasn't really his fault… I finally decided, meeting his eyes and putting two fingers on my throat. I opened my mouth and motioned outward while spreading my hand, mimicking sound, and then shook my head _'no.'_

For a second Bofur's eyebrows furrowed, and then suddenly shot up. "Oh! Ye can't speak? Is that what you're tellin' me?"

 _'Yes',_ I nodded quickly.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, lass," he said, then his mustache followed his mouth in a wry smile. "Or rather, not hear that."

I couldn't help the deadpan look I gave at the poor joke, which only caused him to let out a laugh. I suddenly thought of an idea to tell them my name though, and reached for my backpack, hoping that the 'common tongue' actually was common. I mean, I recalled in the movies when Bilbo put up his sign to ward off visitors, it was totally readable and I only knew one language. This was the best solution I had to work with.

They watched, intrigued, as I unzipped the moist, blue and purple bag. They likely had never seen anything like it before, so I couldn't really blame them for staring as I pulled out my soaked Batman wallet, grabbing my Driver's License. I held the card up, pointing to the name portion.

He squinted in complete bafflement, more curious about the piece of thin plastic than the actual words. "How in the world did you make a painting that thin and smooth? The writin' is so tiny and neat! And is that you? You had so much hair, what happened to it all?!"

I tapped the words with my finger, knowing these questions would likely go on forever, and there was no easy explanation I could give them without my voice.

Eventually he stopped staring at the License itself, and noticed the words. "Marie Jenna Hollander?"

I wobbled my free hand in a ' _sort of'_ motion having forgotten that middle names came first on those stupid things, then covered all but my first name.

"Jenna? Your name is Jenna?" he confirmed, and I nodded again. "Family name is Hollander, I suppose?"

 _'Yes.'_ Another nod – I assumed there would be a lot of that from this point on. I put my Driver's License away, closing up my backpack. I didn't even want to know what kind of water damage my belongings sustained.

"That's quite a strange name, but then again, you're quite a strange lass," Bofur said, holding out his hand. I nervously shook it. "Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Hollander."

His fingerless knitted gloves were fuzzy and soft compared to his actual hand, which had a good number of calluses that brushed my skin. It only cemented the fact that these Dwarves were real, live, breathing people, and unsettled me deeply.

When we separated, he pointed to the plate of bacon still on my lap. "You'd best be eatin' that before it gets cold."

I gave another thankful smile, pushing my previous thoughts away with some effort, and happily dug in as Bofur returned to his spot and his own plate. Bacon had always been too greasy for my taste, but after the night I had, I would gladly eat a whole mountain of bacon if it was my only option. Beggars can't be choosers and all that jazz. The dwarves were being so friendly and they didn't even know me, where I came from, or anything. They just dredged me out of a river, wrapped up my wound, and gave me breakfast. Like, how lucky could you be? Why the hell couldn't these guys have been the first people I ran into?

Once I had devoured (more like inhaled) the bacon and handed my empty dish over, I realized I was incredibly parched. Especially for someone who had just swallowed half the river the night before. My bag of "useless" things came in handy again when I pulled out my flip-top water bottle, earning more stares.

"I'm willin' to bet you're not from around here, are you?" Bofur asked, eying the clear blue plastic container. When I shook my head, he added, "No home close by that we can take ya to?"

 _Understatement of the century_ , I thought, shaking my head again.

He set his now empty plate in a small pile with the others', passing them over to Bifur with a quick, "Go rinse these off, would ya?" then began gathering their other gear up. Bifur gave an odd grunt in reply, heading off towards the river.

A little while passed as Bofur rolled up their blankets and he started chatting amiably. "I can't say I've ever seen a woman of Men quite like yourself. Most a the ones with hair that short had to chop it off from mites… Not sayin' you have mites or nothin', don't take offense! Just strange for us Dwarves, seein' as how we hold our hair in such high esteem. Poor Bombur here had to fight off the Dwarrowdams left an' right when his beard came in."

Bifur returned soon after that, handing the cooking gear off to Bombur, who – upon hearing our one-sided conversation – turned a bit red. The round Dwarf secured the larger pans to his pack, and I realized they were just about done tearing down camp.

Attempting to be useful, I shifted onto my knees and tried to roll up the blanket that had been lying on me. This turned out to be a shitty plan, because as soon as I stretched out my left arm, the fabric on my wound stuck to what I guessed was dried blood, pulling the skin painfully. I sucked in air through gritted teeth, hunching my shoulders against the sudden discomfort.

"'Ey now, don't you be worryin' about that," Bofur interceded, stooping to roll the blanket himself. "Don't need you to start bleedin' all over again."

I pursed my lips, sitting back in my previous spot.

He stood and put the rolled-up blanket with their other belongings, then turned back to me, saying, "Speakin' of which, we need to have a proper look at that now that we've got the light."

Bombur and Bifur shuffled over as well, while Bofur knelt next to me and I offered up my arm. I knew this was going to hurt more than it already was, but hey, at least I still had the limb.

The hatted Dwarf carefully undid the tight knot, pulling away the fabric. Once at the final layer, which had darkened with dried blood, I balled up my fists when it was slowly peeled off. Ew. Bombur was the one this time who took the cloth and headed towards the water, coming back moments later to hand his brother the damp rag. I grimaced at the crusted blood on my arm and at the large gash in my skin. It was maybe three inches across, but thankfully not deep enough to cause permanent damage, regardless of how much blood was trying to well up again already.

It was also located right below my tattoo, I remembered belatedly.

Bofur was already pushing my sleeve up for a better angle to clean the wound though, when he paused, noticing my ink.

…

"Well that's certainly curious."

* * *

 **AN: From this point on, the chapters will be more spread out. I just wanted to tease you guys a little~**

 **Let me know your opinions, criticisms, concerns, anything! Feedback is feedback. :)**


	3. The Gathering

**_You guys have been so fantastic with your reviews! They absolutely make my day. It warms my little writer heart to know you are all enjoying this._**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or its characters!_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Three**

My arm was neatly wrapped again after being cleaned off, and I pulled my sleeve back down hurriedly, giving an uncomfortable nod in thanks. I grabbed my sneakers, which were mostly dry now, from their spot by my bag and slipped them on. These guys really were being wonderful to me, given that I was just some kooky girl they found washed up on a rock.

"That should hold up until ye can get a proper healer to have a look, though I can't help but wonder what kind of a mess ya got yourself into last night," Bofur announced, changing the subject when he noticed I was uncomfortable (but I could tell the tattoo questions would come sooner or later) and standing. I made to do the same, until he put out a hand for me.

I took the offered help with my good arm, once again being weirded out by the reality of these fictional characters' existence. _I don't think I'll be getting over this anytime soon,_ I thought morosely as I stood on shaky legs. My limbs were much more drained from my swim than I knew, so it took me a second to actually steady their wobbling. Bajeezus, I was so out of shape. Not to mention short. I mean, I knew I wasn't the tallest person around, but I only had maybe two or three inches on these guys once I was standing, and they were _Dwarves_. I mentally cursed my tiny ancestors, knowing I would totally get a complex after this realization.

Not noticing where Bifur had gone off to, I was mildly surprised to see him pop up next to me with my oversized hoodie in tow. He made some hand movements followed by words that I didn't completely understand, then passed the item of clothing over to me. It was dry as well, though as I slipped it back on, I noticed the massive hole Jean had left when he sliced my arm open. Jackass. I hoped his bite mark would get infected.

Bifur went over and gathered his pack, putting it on as Bombur had already done with his own, and grabbed a giant, familiar spear of some kind which had been sitting against a tree. Bofur was the last of them to hoist his bag onto his person, picking up the mining mattock I remembered from the films, though hadn't noticed when we were sitting. He leaned against it thoughtfully.

"We're on a bit of a schedule, you see, but we don't want to be leavin' you here by yourself, what with your arm and all," Bofur began seriously. "That kind of a wound wasn't an accident now, was it?"

I shook my head, scowling at the memory.

"Exactly. There's no tellin' who's out there, and we Dwarves aren't ones to let a lass wander off and get herself killed. We're travellin' over to Hobbiton for… well, doesn't matter what it's for, but we're headin' that way, and we thought it'd be best if you came along with us for now," he finished, taking his weight off of the mattock and heaving it onto his shoulder. "The Shire's full o' friendly folk, and I'm certain we'll find someone who can patch that arm up for ya. That is, if you haven't got any other place to be?"

…Travelling to Hobbiton? Were they on their way to meet with the others at Bag End, to begin their mission to reclaim the mountain? Did I land right at the beginning of _The Hobbit_ then? Was I right in my guess about changing the ending of the story?

I perked up instantly at the offer, knowing this had to be what the woman in the forest had been speaking of when she mentioned a task; the quest for Erebor. _No, I don't exactly have anywhere else to be right now,_ I thought amused, shaking my head with a slight smile. I grabbed up my backpack, shouldering it as they had their own, just to show my preparedness to head out. After all, if my speculation was correct, then going with them was the only way to get my voice back.

"Well alright then!" Bofur declared exuberantly, grinning. "Looks like we're hittin' the road!"

Bifur made a hand movement that reminded me vaguely of a fist-pump, adding, "Fel nalim!" When he suddenly started sauntering away though, Bombur reached out and grabbed his coat sleeve, stopping him abruptly. He looked around, mildly puzzled. Within the same second, he repeated the phrase and the gesture, but went the opposite way this time.

"Poor Bifur gets his directions confused more an' more," Bofur murmured to me as we started walking with the other two.

I just gave a slow nod, observing the afore mentioned dwarf,

"Ever since the… ah," he paused, tapping his forehead beneath the hat, "He's had a bit o' trouble gettin' back into the swing of things. Occasionally we'll catch him stickin' toads in his pockets for no reason – we always get 'em out when he's not payin' attention, mind you – but he's family, and we love 'im all the same."

Not too long after we began hiking up a slight incline, the land evened out and there was a path, obviously well-travelled. This must have been the road they were taking to Hobbiton before they stopped to camp, because they continued onward without hesitation. The trees slowly thinned out, becoming more dispersed as the trail went, and I found myself grateful of the nice weather. Compared to the humid, wet-blanket atmosphere that I could never stand at home, it was a welcome change.

It had maybe been fifteen minutes before the inevitable topic sprang to life.

"That kind of tattoo ordinary where ye come from, lass?"

 _Fuck._

I remained passive, since they didn't actually know the real origin of the tattoo yet, and gave Bofur a half shrug, half nod. I mean, technically speaking, tattoos were very common where I came from, but there were so many different styles that the question was really too vague to answer. Maybe someone had one similar to it somewhere on Earth. Considering how famous Tolkien's stories were, not to mention the success of the movies, it was highly likely.

I was thankful when Bofur only used the subject as a foothold for more conversation. (I mean, even if he did ask me the tattoo's purpose… What would that get him? More nods, shrugs, and bad lip-speak?) He went on to tell me about how Dwarven tattoos were much different from what I had on my arm, leaning more towards the bigger bolder side, involving sharper lines and intricate patterns. I briefly recalled such tattoos on Dwalin in the movies and how much their culture involved this type of art in general. Everything was very edgy and strong in appearance, getting as far away from the delicate swirls of Elven society as possible.

"Usually more of a warrior thing – intimidation, ya see – though I 'ave run across the odd miner with a bit of ink on 'em," he continued on pleasantly. "Made the mistake of tryin' ta get one myself, after a few too many ales. Some dwarrows can sit through it, and then some dwarrows are me."

I cracked a smile, imagining the cheery Bofur attempting to get a tattoo and failing. That must have been a sight. Then again, their tattooing techniques were no doubt more painful and drawn out than what I had to deal with in the modern world.

"Bifur has a few of his own, though he got 'em when me an' Bombur were just knee high. Little trouble makers, we were. Always causin' a ruckus for him," he said. For a moment, his face turned wistful, but then it was right back to its normal beaming optimism, recounting tales of dragging a tiny Bombur from various food related situations. Despite being the youngest, Bombur had apparently always been too large for Bofur to carry, straight from the get go. "So there I would be, tryin' ta heave my lump of a brother out of the nobles' kitchens – not even knowin' how he got there in the first place! – when Bifur here comes barrelin' through. Picks us up like we don't weight nothin', and ohh, do we get the scoldin' of a lifetime. It was nigh a few months later when Bombur did it again! Only by that point, he'd already grown so much, neither of us could pick him up!"

He laughed pretty hard at the memory, while his sibling had something of an embarrassed, yet proud expression. I giggled silently at my companions, having more fun in the past hour alone than I'd had in the past _year_.

It must have been a little over midday when our surroundings began changing. The trees became even more sparse, though the ones that we did see were large and strong. The shrubbery and forest was quickly replaced with rolling green hills of grass, and I realized that we must have crossed into the Shire at some point. In the distance, I spotted areas that appeared populated and felt excitement burble up. I could barely discern little round doors in the hillsides and I was already having a stroke, so I really didn't want to know what would happen when we got right up next to them.

Unfortunately, that had to wait until after we stopped for lunch under the shade of a tree. It was a brief thing, just enough for us to rest our feet, chowing down on some biscuits combined with what I assumed was a type of dried deer meat. It was confirmed when Bofur – ever the conversationalist – told me a quick story about how a deer had jumped out of some bushes once, scaring Bombur and causing him to go rolling down a hill. He'd bowled into some poor farmer's fence and left a massive hole. They stayed to help fix it, of course, but kept away from that town for a while.

As we finished up our food and gathered ourselves to continue onward, the three Dwarves must have noticed my anticipation. I really couldn't stop fidgeting with my hoodie sleeves, and glancing towards the Hobbit holes every few seconds, so it was no wonder.

"Ya ever seen a Hobbit before, Miss Hollander?" Bofur questioned.

I shook my head quickly. Technically speaking, no – I hadn't seen one in person anyway.

"They're mostly harmless, from what I've heard," he said. "Never had much reason to be around 'em myself, seein' as how we've only passed through the Shire a handful of times."

I gave him a curious look, hoping for elaboration – and more stories, since I really couldn't have a dialogue exchange myself. He glanced over at my expression, and mentioned it was for trade of some kind while we kept going on our path. The topic eventually veered into their mining jobs and Bifur's toy creations. The trail began to weave through little neighborhoods as I only halfway listened, distracted by what surrounded us.

Let me tell you, the movies do no justice to actually being there in the Shire, feeling the breeze, watching the Hobbits do their thing in such a wholesome atmosphere. Their tasks varied from tending gardens, to hanging laundry, to chatting with neighbors. I could practically hear the trademark 'Concerning Hobbits' theme as we strolled along. God, I was a nerd… The Hobbits would stop their chores for a moment, staring when we passed, but no one kicked up a fuss or anything. My outfit and my hair (or lack of) stuck out like a sore thumb I realized, making me suddenly self-conscious. The Halflings were likely just curious or looking for something to gossip about, no doubt, and the Dwarves didn't seem fazed by all the attention, so I tried not to let the stares bother me either.

I knew the Shire was relatively spread out though, so it didn't surprise me when we had to make camp several hours later on the outskirts of a large neighborhood. Bofur had pulled out a map as Bombur cooked dinner, informing us that we were passing through Westmarch, and still had another town to go through before reaching Hobbiton. They were kind enough to lend me the blanket again as we settled down for the night beside a massive tree. Using my backpack as a lumpy pillow, I had my first true taste of sleeping outdoors… And it sucked.

Sure, the ground was grassy and should have been soft, but when you have big hips and are used to a mattress, it is so not the same thing. I had never truly gone camping in my life, and as such, never had to experience this lack of comfort.

But as I lay tossing and turning all night, I thought about the Dwarves of Erebor after it was taken by Smaug, about the living conditions that they had to deal with when they were thrown out into the world with nothing. All that had _really_ happened here. I had no right to complain about one night of sleeping on the ground, much less when I knew I should use this opportunity to try and get used to it. There were many more nights like that to come, if I was meant to go on this quest, and very few would be safe like the Shire. So I silenced my mind as the moon passed its peak, falling into a restless sleep, wrapping myself like a burrito in the blanket that smelled of dirt, leather, and somehow Bofur.

By the time morning arrived, I was stiff and sleepy, but more than ready to get moving again. We ate a simple breakfast and were on the road before the early chill had even dissipated. It took two days of this – passing through several Hobbit communities, Bofur regaling me with silly tales, and enjoying the pure scenery of the Shire. I had no idea this place was so big, but then again, the map of Middle Earth plastered on my wall could only capture so much.

The sun was high overhead, shining through thin layers of clouds, when Bofur brought up my silence issue.

"So about ya not bein' able to speak… Has it always been like that? I mean, it's none of my business of course and ye don't have ta answer if you don't want, but I can't help noticin' that ye don't seem quite used to it," he admitted.

This puzzled me. I raised an eyebrow in question to what he meant, mouthing, _'How…?'_

Apparently the gist was clear, because he answered, "Well, ye seem to forget that ya haven't got a voice half the time. You'll start to say somethin' and then ye get this look on yer face, and you'll close yer mouth right back up. It's rather obvious, if ye don't mind me sayin'."

I stared forward for a minute as we walked. Had I really been doing it that often? I mean, I'd caught myself a few times, like when I tried to convey my need for a potty break (mortifying, by the way), or when I saw Bifur wandering off the trail behind us and had to inform the other two. And maybe when I tried to say my name… and also that other time. And then when…

Huh.

"Ye can see what I mean though," Bofur continued, watching as the realization crossed my face. "So yer bein' speechless is a recent thing then, eh lass?"

Hesitantly, I nodded, still befuddled by my own slip ups. It wasn't as if I had to keep the Valar-taking-my-voice thing a secret though, right? They might think I was crazy or something if they found out somehow, but I couldn't see any real other consequence behind answering honestly. (Did they have insane asylums in Middle Earth? I hoped not, for my own sake.)

If the hatted Dwarf was interested before, he was truly curious now. "If ye don't mind my askin', what happened exactly?"

 _Oh boy._

All three of the Dwarves were paying attention at that point, and I debated for a long moment with myself, the awareness making me pick at my nails uncertainly. In the end, I finally just went for the lame, _'It's complicated.'_ Bofur had been telling me all these stories about their antics and their lives, so it made me feel kind of guilty for not spilling, but at the same time I still was unsure of how they would react to the truth. I mean, _I_ still didn't even believe it one hundred percent, and I was the one who experienced the whole damn thing.

The ever-kind Bofur seemed to understand my want for privacy on the matter, though he still appeared a bit let down, as did Bombur. Meanwhile Bifur was quickly distracted from the conversation by a butterfly flittering past his face. It was endearing, in an odd way.

"Well, I'll be set to hear the tale when yer ready to tell it," Bofur assured me, though the fleeting look he gave my shoulder was not missed. "I'm sure it's an interestin' one."

With that, the subject faded off and I gladly let it.

It was the evening of the second day, and I had noticed we weren't stopping to make camp anywhere. Just as the sun rapidly disappeared behind the hills, taking the orange light with it, I came to the realization that we had just entered Hobbiton. It was only moments later that I began recognizing landmarks like the Party Tree. If it weren't for the lanterns dispersed across random parts of the community (on porches, in gardens, along little sections of pathway) it would have been incredibly hard to travel. As it was, the lamplight combined with the moon to give a feeling of comfort, while crickets serenaded us on our walk.

"Shouldn't be too long now, lass," Bofur commented, though no sooner had he spoken, than I spotted the tallest hill with its round little green door, some ways away.

Of course, they had never mentioned their final stopping point. I wasn't supposed to know they were headed for Bag End, but I was relatively sure Bombur already noticed my staring. By the time I averted my gaze from our destination – trying to look like I had no clue what was going on – it was too late. In my peripheral, I could see the ginger-haired Dwarf's attention was on me.

I glanced over. Mistake. We made eye contact. His eyes widened slightly. My eyes did the same without my permission, and I could tell he knew something was fishy. Then we rapidly returned to staring straight forward. Awkward silence. _Oh Hell's bells,_ I had to be more careful. I was suddenly glad he didn't talk much when several minutes went by, and nothing was said about my odd behavior.

Not long after this exchange, I noticed a larger group heading to the same Hobbit hole, though from a different path. They were still some ways away, but judging from the tall silhouette with the pointed hat, I knew exactly who we were about to meet up with. Something akin to hope tried to spring to life in my chest. It was extremely wishful thinking, but maybe Gandalf could convince the Valar to give me my voice back? Better yet, send me home before I got eaten by a Warg? I mean, surely they could trade me out for a Tolkien fan who does cross country or something? It wasn't that I didn't want to help; it's just that I was more likely to bite the dust myself than to stop any dust biting.

Bofur called out a, "Hello there!" as we closed in, to which there were many joyful replies. I counted five Dwarves in the other cluster as our two groups converged in front of Bag End, the Brothers Ur greeting everyone individually as I stood back, waiting awkwardly. I took in the sight of Ori, with all his adorable knitted outerwear, and his older brothers Dori and Nori on either side of him. I recognized the other two Dwarves as Oin, holding his ear trumpet up to hear all the chitchat, and his brother Gloin.

Gandalf the Grey however, waited to the side like I had, watching the proceedings with an amused expression. He looked exactly like I knew he would – just disheveled enough to pass for a hobo with a Snuggie, but with an aura of power and mystery that made you question this. In the dim yellow light coming from the Hobbit Hole's windows, he noticed me, and his eyebrows rose a bit in curiosity. Or in knowing. I truly was not sure.

It was at that point that Dori, who had just finished greeting the others, became aware of me standing a few feet away. "So who's this then?" he asked, not unfriendly but not quite in a soft manner either.

"Ah!" Bofur turned my direction, ushering me over with a slight nudge on my backpack, announcing, "Well this is Miss Jenna Hollander. Kind lass we fished out o' the river, half drowned and injured to boot. We couldn't just leave 'er there, ya know, and she isn't from around these parts, so we decided to let 'er tag along. Mind you, the lass can't speak, but don't worry 'bout that too much – she gets 'er point across just fine."

I gave an embarrassed smile at Bofur's preamble (though it probably looked more like I had just stepped on a nail), as he introduced me to each Dwarf, listing off names that I had memorized many years prior to this debacle. Too much attention made my cheeks heat up despite the cool night air. With each new face came a different reaction to my presence, ranging from indifference, to curiosity, to distrust. Dori was really the only one who didn't seem quite on board with my being there, though Gloin was probably a close second. Not that I could blame them. I mean, it _was_ supposed to be a meeting for a secret mission, after all, and I suddenly hoped the brothers Ur wouldn't get into any trouble for bringing me along.

Before Dori or Gloin could question my presence further though, Gandalf stepped up, staff in hand.

He tilted his chin downwards to give a meaningful look, saying calmly, "I would introduce myself as well… except that is rather unnecessary. Is it not, Miss Hollander?"

I found myself fiddling with my jacket sleeves nervously, shaking my head and trying to keep a poker face. Did he know my whole story, of how I got here and why? Or only part of the story? Or was he just making wizard guesses and trying to freak me out?

I risked a peek at the Dwarves, my eyes meeting Bofur's, and he gave me an inquisitive look, probably wondering exactly who the heck he brought to their shindig. I offered an apologetic shrug for my secrets, though as I turned to the group, I was saved by the sound of loud voices inside Bag End. The others shifted their attention to the Hobbit Hole, and Gandalf used that to change the focus.

"Ah, well… these matters can be tended to after dinner. I have no doubt you are all tired and hungry, and I'm sure that our unforeseen guest won't stir up too much trouble," the wizard supplied, standing up a bit straighter, and giving me a clever smile. "Let us join the others, shall we?"

* * *

 _ **AN: Not much happening yet, but we'll get there. ;)**_

 _ **Thank you once again for reading! Don't forget to comment and let me know what you think so far!**_


	4. The Dwarves

**_I've decided that Mondays will be when I update, though it will usually be EVERY OTHER Monday - unless there's a special occasion, or other circumstance. (Last chapter was a bit slow, so I figured there was no harm in going ahead with this one, but I'll try not to spoil you guys! LoL) I've got a few more chapters already written, so there's a bit of a buffer for my upload schedule. Once I catch up, the updates might be slower, but we have a little ways to go before then. :)_**

 ** _As always, thank you so much for your reviews! Enjoy!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters, only my OC._**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

Bag End quickly became a jumble of organized chaos.

At the mention of food, the Dwarves had (sadly) attempted to pile in the door all at once. I knew exactly how well that would go, so I stayed back while they fell forward into a heap of beards, bags, and legs. I stood beside the wizard as he hunched to peer into the doorway.

An exasperated, "Gandalf," floated out from the small home, and upon recognizing the voice, I was instantly poking my head around the door frame as well. There – in all his patchwork-robed, curly-haired, fussy glory – was the Hobbit. THE Hobbit. Ringwinner, Luckwearer, Barrel-rider... Though at that point, he was still just Bilbo Baggins: tiny creature who was working himself into conniptions over boot prints on his carpet.

As the Dwarves rolled off of each other and made their way further into Bag End, they exchanged brief "Good evening"s and "At your service"s with their host. They handed off coats and bags, though Bilbo didn't look like he was paying much attention to the actual introductions or where he bothered to set their things. No, he was definitely more concerned with the boot prints and the home invasion.

Once he recognized it as a lost cause, the disgruntled Hobbit dropped what bag was last handed to him and scuttled over to Gandalf, who had just stepped inside. I was reluctant to add yet more shoe prints to the rug, but there really wasn't much for it, so I followed in last, awkwardly closing the little round door behind us.

"So this – this is what you were talking about earlier? When you said you would 'Inform the others'?!" Bilbo questioned the grey wizard, in a furious but hushed tone. "These _Dwarves_ are the ' _others_ '? – wait! When did I even agree to this?"

Gandalf just put on a face of complete innocence, saying, "We spoke of it, did we not, my dear boy?"

The Hobbit stuttered out, "Well yes – but no! No! – that is – I hadn't the slightest idea what you were going on about, so that hardly counts as having _spoken_ of it!"

He was so adorable when he was flustered. I couldn't help the little puffs of laughter that I exhaled through my nose, though quickly stopped when Bilbo located the source of the noise, scowling. There was almost no pause between his previously rambling, as he turned back to Gandalf.

"Is he also – oh dear, I am so sorry, Miss. Is _she_ a Dwarf as well?" he asked, doing a momentary double-take, mid-sentence. I was caught between being insulted and being amused. My hoodie did no favors for my figure though, so I didn't hold it against him for mistaking me as a guy at first glance.

Gandalf was just as relaxed as he had been moments before when he answered, turning to me. "Oh, no, she is not a Dwarf, nor is she a Hobbit. I would like to introduce you to Miss Jenna Hollander."

I hesitated, but realized what a dork I was being, so speedily stepped forward to shake hands. He almost looked startled at my sudden movement, but returned the greeting all the same.

"Bilbo Baggins," he said warily. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I smiled as friendly as I could, trying to make a good first impression. I mean, it wasn't every day that you got to meet _the_ Hobbit. It's like that feeling you get when you meet Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld for the first time; you know there's no real reason to be nervous, but it happens anyway. My silence came off as awkward however, and as I released Bilbo's hand, I looked up to Gandalf for help to explain. He caught the drift quickly enough.

"Ah, yes. I forgot to mention that Miss Hollander cannot speak, due to… extenuating circumstances beyond our control at the moment," the wizard told him vaguely.

I squinted at the bearded man's words, still unsure of how much he knew. I hoped I would get answers out of him before the night was done though. Or before I was forced to whack him over the head with his own staff. It hadn't even been a full ten minutes since I'd met Gandalf and I could already tell he was going to be equal parts mischief maker and problem solver.

Bilbo made a small "Oh!" and seemed a little less uneasy about my uncomfortable silence. Though it was then that we heard more laughter and rowdy noise from down the hall, and his shoulders slumped with a huff, remembering his other guests. He made to follow the noise while grumbling, but then looked down at his garb, turning sharply in the other direction.

"As soon as I am properly dressed, Gandalf, you and I are going to have a chat!" the Hobbit called, already over halfway down the hall. I wasn't the only one who needed to have a proper talk with the meddlesome wizard, apparently.

After setting my backpack down on a small table in the hall, I followed Gandalf to the rest of the group like an awkward duck. Not wanting to get bumped into with plates of food or anything, I stayed in the archway while Gandalf made his way through the atrium, greeting Dwarves and maneuvering into the dining room. They all bustled about, bringing food to the table, setting it up, and returning to the kitchen for more.

In the far corner, I spotted two young Dwarves messing with a barrel of what must have been ale. It only took a moment for me to recognize them as Fili and Kili, and when I did, I suddenly felt ill. Not from excitement at the thought of meeting them. No. It was because the last time I had seen those faces, I was bawling like an absolute baby in front of a screen. The reaction upon observing them in person was definitely not how I always imagined it would be. My stomach turned and my fingers went cold at the thought of the princes being real. Real people. _Real_ people who I knew were _really_ going to die in less than a year, unless I could change things.

Great. I couldn't even look at the Dwarves I was supposed to be helping without my guts feeling all gross. Wonderful start.

I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets and made to look away from them, trying to think of something else, but it was then that the eldest prince made eye contact with me. _Crap_. A look of curiosity overcame Fili's baby blues, as he turned to his brother and exchanged a few words, which I could only guess were about the weirdo standing in the doorway. Fili glanced back over to me, this time with Kili investigating as well, and it was only seconds before they were setting the barrel down and winding their way through the others.

' _Too late to run now,'_ I thought, trying to look less panicked. (I suspected I was failing.)

"No one said anything about a lady being present tonight," the blonde prince said as they came to a halt in front of me, and he glanced at the other, mustache beads swinging with the movement. "I believe introductions are needed, brother."

"That they are," the younger agreed, beaming. "Kili."

"And Fili."

"At your service," they finished together, with slight bows not quite as low as the ones from the film, and I was struck with vivid déjà vu. Did they do that to everyone they met? Or were they just feeling especially synchronized tonight?

When I gave a weak smile, their grins faltered slightly, but Kili instantly started back up. "Are you perhaps the wife of Mister Boggins? I'd had no idea that he was marri – "

' _Nope!'_ I shook my head instantly, derailing that before they confused themselves. My hands were clammy inside my pockets. Why did they have to look like such puppies? I wanted to wrap them in bubble wrap and not ever let them leave the house.

"So… you're _not_ married to Mister Boggins?" Kili asked, looking puzzled regardless.

"Well that's what she just said, isn't it?" Fili cut in, considering me for a moment, before making his own guess. "Did you come here with Gandalf? Or maybe… well, you're dressed rather odd, so maybe you're a wizard as well?"

"We get _two_ wizards?" Kili exclaimed prematurely, glancing back and forth between us.

' _What?! No!'_ I shook my head yet again, incredulous. This communication block was quickly making my nervous stomach ache ten times worse. _Dear sweet baby Jesus._

I decided to try and mouth the words, _'No. I'm not a wizard.'_

That put a pause to their guessing. My lack of voice threw them off for a second, though Kili was once again the first to come back from it.

"Did you say you're not a wizard?" he questioned, looking a bit disappointed.

Nod.

Fili appeared thoughtful, then asked, "Can you not speak?"

My response was a mixture of shrugging and head shaking. I was saved from more questions by Bofur, who overheard the princes on his way to the dining room, a large plate of sliced ham in his hands.

"Aye, this here is Miss Jenna Hollander, and you're spot on," he interceded. "Doesn't have a voice and she isn't from around here, so mind your manners..." There was a pause as the Dwarf observed me. "Doin' alright, lass? Ye look a bit pale there."

I attempted a nonchalant smile, but that was about as useful as trying to catch water on fire. Bofur saw straight through my falsified happy face and was instantly by my side. Bless the sweetheart.

"Let's get some food in ye, alright, Miss Hollander? After dinner we'll have Oín check up on that arm of yours," he said, setting a hand on my other shoulder, then turned to Fili and Kili. "You lads best be gettin' that ale out before we've got a riot on our hands."

The two princes complied hesitantly, their interest still piqued by the quiet oddball. As they meandered back across the atrium for the barrel, Bofur led me into the dining area. While the hallway was chaos, the other room was only mildly better, occupied by several Dwarves trying to find places to set food on the already full table. My stomach was starting to settle, and unfortunately, that meant I could now feel the hunger creeping up at the thought of a meal. Everything looked delicious, from baked potatoes, to chicken and bread rolls, to the giant cheese blocks that Bombur had kidnapped. It was like Thanksgiving on steroids.

Bilbo's return to the madness was unmistakable. There were fussy protests of, "Not those!" and "Put that back where it came from!" though nobody seemed to take any notice of the poor guy. I glanced back through the doorway to see him wrestle a bowl of tomatoes away from Ori, who seemed a little bewildered, though quickly continued on his way. These Dwarves really couldn't tell that he wasn't expecting all of them?

As Bofur pulled me up a chair and the dining room quickly began filling up, it suddenly dawned on me that I never saw Bilbo eat his dinner in the movie. Did he do so behind the scenes? Even when all the Dwarves were having a grand 'ole time, I couldn't recall seeing him ever having a plate of his own, and it bothered me enough to do something about it.

I turned to Bofur before I could get seated, giving him the, _'One moment'_ signal. He looked curious for a minute before he shrugged, sitting down in the chair beside mine, and began with his own dining. I grabbed a plate as well, though not for me. I tried to put a variation of things on there, uncertain of what he would want, but it was all from his pantry so surely it was stuff he would eat.

Spinning to head back towards where I last saw the Hobbit, I almost dumped the plate on a long white beard which suddenly appeared in front of me. One of the tomatoes just about rolled off, but I tilted the dish back in time, whipping my eyes up to see who nearly wore the food.

"Sorry about that, laddie," said the Dwarf, who was looking down at his beard, brushing some crumbs off. By the time he brought his eyes back up, I had recognized who it was, and an expression of surprise overcame him. "Oh – well you're not a lad at all! My apologies, Miss…?"

I just wanted to staple a sign to my forehead at this point. _'Jenna Hollander,'_ I said silently.

As everyone else previous had done, his brows furrowed for a moment, before he asked, "Gene O'Lander?"

 _Dear God._

"Jenna Hollander," Bofur stated with a mouth half-full of food, and continued eating like nothing had happened.

The Dwarf before me nodded, though still looked somewhat concerned that I was there at all. Either way, he offered a hand to shake. I took it with my free one as he said, "Balin, at your service. It is… nice to meet you, Miss Hollander."

Standing across the table from us, we had garnered the attention of a big burly Dwarf with tattoos covering the bald circle on the top of his head. I met his eyes and tried out a sheepish smile. There was no smile back. Of course. Unmistakably, I knew it was…

"Dwalin," he said, crossing his arms and tilting his chin down to eyeball me, before turning to speak with Gandalf.

The elder brother gave another slight nod to me before sitting down, on the opposite side of the empty seat beside Bofur. When Balin gave me one last glance and turned to Bofur with an obvious question in his eyes, I took that as my cue to go, and slipped out into the atrium. I seriously hoped the brothers Ur wouldn't be in hot water because of me.

By that point, pretty much the entire Company had found a seat around the table, laughing and eating with their mouths wide open as they talked, so the only occupant in the room I entered was Bilbo. His back was to me and his shoulders drooped upon seeing the wreckage of his pantry.

I padded over to where the Hobbit stood, coming to a stop beside him and holding out the full plate.

It took him a moment to realize I was there. He jumped slightly when he did, and let out a sigh from being startled before his attention came back to me. Everyone else was so loud in comparison, it was no wonder I caught him off guard. I held it out more prominently, and when he finally took note of the offer, he stared back and forth between me and the dish.

"You – you made me a plate?" he asked, grimace slowly fading in favor of mild astonishment. With this crew, it was no wonder he was taken aback.

I nodded, unable to stop a real smile from creeping up to my face. Bilbo looked halfway grateful, but also halfway like a deer who might bolt as he hesitated, as if actually getting to eat dinner was too good to be true. Eventually he did reach over, and took the plate of food with a wry smile.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Hollander," the Hobbit said. "This is – that was very thoughtful of you. I didn't believe there would be any food left by the time this bunch was done, so this is a pleasant surprise."

There was a burping contest behind us that ended with a thundering belch from Ori, which caused the group to fall into an uproar of hilarity. Bilbo, however, was the opposite of amused. The frown returned as his shoulders tensed, and I couldn't help but reach out and pat his arm with a smirk on my face. Poor baby was gonna have to get used to this.

He gave me a pleading look that deliberately said _'put me out of my misery'_. I couldn't control the silent snickers that escaped me as I left Bilbo to his moping, content now that I had given him some dinner.

When I took a seat at the table, between Bofur and Balin, it was plain to see that nearly all the food had already been demolished. With haste, I snagged some chunks of bread, cheese, and ham before it disappeared as well. _Damn_. I certainly underestimated how quickly they would inhale their dinner…

Shortly after I managed to consume my makeshift sandwich, the Dwarves did the same to what remained of the table's contents. Well after all were finished eating, the group continued with their antics, though they dispersed throughout the house to cause ruckus elsewhere. Bofur gave me a reassuring smile, then squeezed around my chair to tag along with Nori into the kitchen, causing Balin to scoot down to the head of the table so others could get out as well.

I also took that chance to escape the table, uncomfortable with all the crowding and – for lack of a better term – _unique_ smells. What with all the belching and men in one place, I wasn't surprised. The crowding wouldn't have bothered me so bad, had I known them better, and I mean, I _knew_ them, Lord did I know them. But at the same time, I didn't know them at all, and it threw me off. I had posters of these guys plastered everywhere in my home, and yet they were strangers. It was such an odd experience. I trusted them, don't get me wrong, but I didn't exactly wanna go around hugging everybody yet either.

I positioned myself by a small shelf of sorts near the archway, watching as Gandalf stood from his place at the table to calm an agitated and ranting Bilbo. The poor Hobbit was already back in fits after his short food break.

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them," I overheard Gandalf respond to the Hobbit.

I waited to hear the expected retort of Bilbo stammering out, "I don't want _to_ _get used_ to them! Look at the state of my kitchen! There's mud, trodding on the carpet!" They continued around the corner, through said kitchen, and back into the atrium where I stood awkwardly. "They – they've _pillaged_ the pantry! I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand _what they're doing in my house!_ " Bilbo finished in a rush, balling his little fists up.

Ori chose that moment to walk in front of me, over to their host, and asked in a small voice what he should do with his plate. A beat of stomping and clashing silverware began, and I peeked into the dining room to see Bofur and Nori sitting across from each other, the cause of the noise. Others beside them began adding to the beat as well. Before long, Fili popped up and started tossing bowls and Ori's plate to his brother, and Bilbo was about to have a stroke over the danger his mother's dishes seemed to be in. He looked truly distraught. When he finally got around to telling Bofur not to blunt his knives, I was on the fence between amusement from the Dwarves' antics and concern for the Halfling's peace of mind.

"Ohhh, did ya hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives!" called a familiar voice.

I raised a halfhearted, disapproving eyebrow at Bofur and he gave me an unashamed smile in return, winking. My eyes rolled of their own accord, but I smiled a bit too, knowing full well that there would be no damage done in the end.

Then Kili began to sing.

* * *

 _ **AN: Woohoo! Only one more Dwarf to meet. ;)**_

 ** _Again, I love hearing from you guys! Your feedback is wonderful and appreciated, so thank you. Please continue to review and share your thoughts on the story so far!_**

 ** _Bye for now!_**


	5. The Fifteenth

_**You guys are absolutely wonderful to me~ Thank you for all your reviews and support for this story! Here's another chapter, you fantastic people.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters.**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

" _Blunt the knives, bend the forks!_

 _Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_

 _Chip the glasses and crack the plaaaates…_

 _That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

I was almost afraid to move when dishes were flying past my face. The Dwarves had a good flow going, tossing plates to be cleaned and setting them back up neatly on the table, and I really didn't want to be the dunderhead who ruined the fun. I was sure that while Bilbo appreciated me saving him some food, he probably would not like me too much if I broke his deceased mother's dishes.

 _"Drop the cloth, tread on the fat,_

 _Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!_

 _Pour the milk on the pantry floooor,_

 _Splash the wine on every door!"_

As the song ensued, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my head, like I was forgetting something. Their song was very entertaining, both musically and visually, but my nerves were suddenly making themselves known. It was that feeling you get when you walk into a room and fail to remember what you came in there for though you knew it was something important, and it was causing my stomach to do odd tumbles.

 _"Dump the corks in a boiling bowl,_

 _Pound them up with a thumping pole,_

 _And when you're finished if any are whoooole…_

 _Send them down the hall to roll!"_

Balin's expression blatantly said he had witnessed these shenanigans quite a few times and it made me curious to just how often Dwarves did this. It was like High School Musical logic up in here, where everybody was magically in the right place at the right time, choreographer be damned. I watched as Balin bounced plates back to the twirling Fili, who then threw – wait.

Fili.

Line of Durin.

And then I remembered… Thorin! _Thorin_ was going to be arriving soon _._ Oh my God. How could I have forgotten?

 _"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

No no. That's what _Jenna_ hates. Meeting a Dwarven King that I had posters of in my bedroom, who I had read unspeakable fanfictions of, who I thought was a total hot tamale, but I also looked up to? To me, at that moment in time, the prospect was anything but pleasant. Not to mention the whole, 'oh yeah, I'm supposed to go on this quest with you but I don't have any fighting skills and can't even talk so the odds of me actually saving your life at the end of this are not good, but hey, I can make an Origami turtle!'

Yeah, that was going to go over _so_ well.

Bilbo had just scurried into the kitchen as the singing ended, spotting all his dishes – cleaned, piled neatly, and completely undamaged – and the Dwarves laughed together at his expression. Gandalf was chuckling along right in the middle of it, knowing as I had that everything would turn out alright. The Hobbit's look of surprise was quite amusing, I admitted to myself, even if his panic during the whole thing had not been. His nervousness levels rivaled my own, and that was saying something.

 _THUD. THUD. THUD._

The room fell silent as all heads turned towards the front of the house. Ever the dramatic one, Gandalf waited a moment, to build unnecessary suspense before speaking.

"He is here."

Really. I never would have guessed.

Everyone began shuffling into the other room, following the wizard and Bilbo, and my anxiety began to climb. Then thinking about my anxiety caused me to get even more nervous, though, until I just wound up forcing myself to take a deep breath and trail after them. I went around to the entrance hall after the brothers Ur, deciding at the last second that I wanted to put this off as long as possible, and hid behind Bombur and Bifur. I ended up slouching to keep out of sight, only barely peeking over the younger's head. Just in time, too, as it was then that the door was opened.

"Gandalf," came the deep, familiar voice of Mister Majestic himself. The Dwarf King stepped inside after a moment, continuing, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

I willed myself to stop shaking like a Chihuahua after getting a curious look from Nori. ' _Find your chill, Jenna, good God. You met all the rest of them just fine. He's just another Dwarf... Who, like his nephews, is destined to die in a few months.'_

Shit. There went my chill.

By that point, Bilbo had pushed past Dwalin and Dori in the other hallway to find out who was speaking about the defacement of his property. "Mark? There's no _mark_ on that door – It was painted a week ago!" the little man stated.

Thorin Oakenshield took off his travelling cloak and handed it to Kili, giving his nephews a smile in greeting, looking every bit the regal leader he was. Yes, his nose was just as sharp in person. Yes, his hair's tantalizing waves were just as shiny. Despite us being roughly the same height though, his presence and the way he held himself demanded attention like nobody else in the room. Except maybe Gandalf, of course, but that might've been height related.

When he glanced around the entrance hall to see who showed up, I was suddenly thankful for the shadows in the archway where I stood. Thorin's brief scan of the area slowed, but then his attention was dragged away by Gandalf's introduction of Bilbo before he spotted me.

I didn't know I had tensed until my shoulders drooped, and I exhaled as quietly as possible. I was a nervous little thing, unable to handle confrontation very well – in case that wasn't as obvious as the axe in Bifur's head – and my heart was having fits. I could sense a panic attack on the rise and felt like an idiot for allowing myself to get worked up to the point of my body rebelling.

I wanted to get out of that hall before I barfed from anxiety, and compose myself prior to dealing with the inevitable dispute that would occur when I tried to join the Company. (Yeah, sure, most convincing argument of your durability ever: upchuck all over the floor!) Eating dinner with them was one thing. But coming along on a dangerous quest to reclaim a kingdom halfway across Middle Earth? From the clutches of a dragon, no less?

I didn't dare show him my tattoo, either. Even if it was basically proof that I needed to be there. Honestly, I weighed the option for a long time, but kept coming to the same conclusion. It would be suspicious as hell, and I knew Thorin wouldn't be pleased with something like that popping up out of the blue, on an outsider to boot, and there was no way for me to explain its existence to him. Even if it was a slim chance, I prayed that the brothers Ur would stay silent about it.

These thoughts passed through my head as Thorin was busy circling Bilbo like a judgmental vulture with great hair. I made a decision then, and turned to Nori, who had been glancing at me now and again throughout the whole thing anyway. No doubt I looked more like an alarmed gecko than a human girl.

I pressed a hand to my gut area, making circular motions and grimacing in response to his unspoken question. My pained look must have been somewhat convincing, because the suspicion left his face, replaced by understanding. I jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom then.

He just nodded, and whispered halfway teasingly, "Go do what you've gotta do. I'd be careful though; Bombur's last visit nearly finished off those pipes."

Ew. TMI, Nori.

I scrunched up my nose as Bombur turned his head upon hearing his name. Nori shrugged at the large Dwarf, saying quietly, "Just tellin' it like it is."

Shaking my head, I snuck off just as the group chuckled at Thorin's comment about Bilbo looking like a grocer. Which was more than a little rude, considering the Hobbit was their host, and as far as they knew, he _was_ supposed to be a burglar. Bit of a jerk way to introduce yourself, Thorin. Why was I nervous about meeting this Dwarf again?

By the time the crew dispersed from the front of the entrance area, I was over halfway across the house. The round hallways were lit every so often with little oil lamps, though not as brightly as the more occupied parts of the dwelling. It was a very cute home, warm and inviting in its simplicity. If I recalled correctly, the bathroom should have been right over – ah ha!

Once I snuck into the bathroom and quietly closed the door, I really did wind up having to go tinkle, but I didn't leave right away afterwards. The few seconds my toilet break gave me were not nearly enough to calm my nerves.

 _'Let's just… uhh. Let them talk about the map first. I mean, that's an important conversation, right? Yeah, that's it. And the burglar spiel, too. Gotta give that Hobbit his contract.'_

I mentally fed myself justifications for prolonging the inevitable, and took the chance to stick a cold rag on my face, hoping it would help. I stood at the sink, taking a washcloth from a neat little pile on a shelf, figuring that Bilbo wouldn't mind. I mean, he was going to be gone for the next year or so anyway, so it hardly mattered if I dirtied up one rag.

The mirror above the small sink did nothing for my worries. I looked every bit like someone who would easily become warg chow, so why did I think Thorin would believe my addition would be helpful? The whole thing was just a pain in the neck.

As I stared at my round-faced reflection, I realized I was acting like a child, hiding in the bathroom this way. Being afraid of confrontation would get me nowhere in this world, and I wondered if that was why the Valar sent me here in the first place. To teach me a lesson? To make me grow a backbone, or whatever?

If I had any chance of convincing them to let me come along, I had to start right then. (Frankly, I should have started about ten minutes ago when Thorin first walked in, but hey, why not let him have a little soup first before I ruined his evening and/or entire life?) I absolutely had to go with the Company, regardless. I had to save three people who didn't even know me, I had to get my voice back, and I somehow had to get that woman to send me home at the end of everything. I was more than willing to help Fili, Kili, and Thorin. The ending of the story I found myself in was devastating, and if I could change that, then I would, but it didn't mean I wasn't terrified. I knew what challenges they would face on the way to Erebor and… well. I was not exactly Katniss.

Across the house, I heard a sudden racket of voices, followed by one yell from the Dwarf King to silence them. I figured Thorin was giving his rousing speech right about then. Sure enough, moments later there was another uproar that sounded more like cheering than arguing. When it fell quiet again I decided that I had been in the bathroom for plenty long enough. I was as calm as I was going to get in this crazy situation and hiding out like a mouse would earn me no points with these guys. Not to mention Nori thought I was still in here evacuating my bowels.

I took a long breath and exhaled slowly before stepping out into the hall. I meandered through the comfy Hobbit Hole once again, merely following the sound of conversation. When another loud disagreement could be heard amongst the Company, the house creaked and abruptly turned cold.

 **"If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"** reverberated throughout the dwelling, Gandalf using his magic to intimidate the Dwarves. Bag End steadily returned to its normal temperature soon after, and the cozy feeling came back. I waited a moment, making a mental note to never piss off a wizard, before continuing down the hall.

"…very well," I overheard Thorin saying as I neared their location. "We will do it your way. Give him the contract."

There was a shuffling of paper – Bilbo protesting with small 'no's over and over – as I stood in the archway of the atrium. The contract was shoved onto the Hobbit's chest by Thorin, after Balin gave a short explanation as to what the paper contained. Bilbo was more than a little worried at the mention of "funeral arrangements."

Thorin's back was to me as he stood from his chair, exchanging a few quiet words with Gandalf. The wizard was the only one I could see in the dining room aside from Thorin, at my angle in the hall, though poor Bilbo was now a few feet in front of me, pouring over the contract with apprehension.

"…Lacerations… evisceration?" the Hobbit read, turning to face the others. " _Incineration?_ "

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur supplied. There was a long pause as Bilbo tried to calm down, speaking about needing air, when the Dwarf continued, "Think furnace – with wings. Flashing light, searing pain, then puff – yer nothin' more than a pile of ash!"

I suddenly wanted to whack Bofur with his own hat when the Hobbit wobbled, breathing shallow. He was about to have a panic attack, which I had literally just fought off moments ago. Panic attacks were a familiar thing for me through High School, though I thankfully hadn't had one in a long while – at least before coming to Middle Earth.

It was then that I knew I dallied enough. Regardless of the verdict, I couldn't fret over this meeting anymore, and panic attacks sucked. If they said no to my joining, then I would just find another way. _'Pffft, yeah right.'_

Thorin was instantly alert when I walked into the atrium with false confidence, as he stood in the doorway of the dining room. I refused to look over out of nervousness, focusing on the Hobbit in front of me instead.

"And just who would you be?" Thorin asked brusquely, arms crossing. In my peripheral, I saw Bofur peek his head out of the dining room, and Gandalf standing up, likely to brace for any bad reactions. The others behind them watched the whole development with interest.

Bilbo noticed me after a second as well, and turned his head slightly in my direction. "Oh, ah – sorry I… seem to be a little faint…" he said breathily. For a moment he straightened up, and I went to go put a hand on his shoulder.

I didn't even get to try teaching him my breathing exercises, because when my hand was almost on him, he up and passed out regardless. I quickly moved forward, grabbing around his chest despite the sharp pain in my arm and carefully letting the small man slide to the ground, instead of just dropping like a rock. That never did look very comfortable to me.

I knelt by Bilbo's unconscious form for a second, before forcing myself to look up from my crouching position and face the music. Thorin appeared impatient that nobody had a response to his question yet, and aggravated that their supposed burglar fainted at the simple mention of danger. He was clearly unimpressed by this entire evening. The rest of the Company simply observed with varying reactions, as Bofur glanced apprehensively between everyone in the atrium, probably rethinking his decision to bring me. Hell, _I_ was rethinking his decision to bring me.

"Are you going to answer me or not?" Thorin demanded, and I might have cringed.

At that, Bofur finally cleared his throat, dragging the king's glare away from me and onto himself, the brave soul. He said in a somehow simultaneously polite and warning tone, "Ah, turns out she's actually a wee bit mute – can't talk or nothin', so…"

Thorin glanced back over to me, seeming a little thrown off by that, but the scowl was still heavily present. The only thing I could do was give him the world's most awkward, tiny wave, trying to smile. This was not nearly as charming as I wanted it to be, apparently.

" _So_ …? Who is she?" Thorin asked turning back to the miner.

Gandalf chose that moment to make his announcement. He did it cautiously; in a way that made me sure he already knew how well his words were going to go over, and everyone looked to him as he spoke up.

"Thorin, this would be Miss Jenna Hollander… your fifteenth member."

* * *

 _ **AN: I'm not going to pretend to know how Hobbit plumbing works, so don't hold me to that.**_

 _ **But anyway~ Thorin's officially in the picture and our next chapter may or may not have a tattoo reveal. ;)**_

 ** _I know I probably gush about it, but thank you again for all your incredible reviews! Never be afraid to leave one, because any feedback or constructive criticism is appreciated. Let me know what you think. :D_**

 ** _Until next time!_**


	6. The Tattoo

_**You guys keep amazing me with your fabulous reviews! I can never thank you all enough for the support.**_

 _ **On another note, I've finally made a proper title image for 'The Loudest Silence', so take a peek at that if you want. :D**_

 _ ***EDIT: The picture is something I did in PhotoShop. I did not draw her from scratch, and it was recently brought to my attention that people might mistake it as an actual art piece of mine. The picture was a promo of Ginnifer Goodwin for "Once Upon A Time", because honestly, she was the closest I could find to Jenna's face type. v.v**_

 _ **Anyway! Next chapter!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or its characters.**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

"Absolutely not."

That was all. That was all he said, staring at Gandalf like he had just suggested they go hug some Elves. He wasn't even worried about anybody trying to convince him otherwise, because the wizard was clearly delusional. Thorin's mind was made up.

I stood from my spot beside the passed out Hobbit, a frown forming on my face. It was going about as well as I figured it would. Which was to say, not very well at all.

"Now, Thorin, this young woman has – " Gandalf began calmly, before being cut off.

"No. The Halfling is bad enough as it is, but to bring her along as well? It is only asking for unnecessary trouble. She cannot even speak, for Mahal's sake," Thorin intervened, shaking his head shortly. "I will not."

Balin's voice came from the dining room, as he said, "I agree. Mister Baggins is needed as our burglar, otherwise he would have no reason to be coming along on such a hazardous journey, but as for Miss Hollander… It would be best not to involve her."

 _Too late for that, really,_ I thought, subconsciously crossing my arms for a sense of security and, by mistake, mirroring Thorin's stubborn pose. It wasn't meant to be a challenge but when his jaw tensed, I realized he had taken it that way. Oops.

Gandalf looked slightly ruffled after having been interrupted, and tried to continue, "As I was saying, this young woman has been brought h – "

"She is not coming, and that's the last of it. What is she even doing here in the first place?" the king questioned, studying my no doubt less-than-impressive person. "You are no Hobbit, and you are obviously not a Dwarf either, so what is your business?"

When I bit my lip and – as he knew would happen – said nothing, he turned halfway around to gaze at the table of Dwarves for an answer. Gandalf looked properly agitated now as well and ventured out into the atrium so he could stand up straight.

Bofur shuffled his feet uncomfortably from where he stood in the dining room entrance, earning stares from those in the area who didn't know about the river drama. At the back of the table, his brother shifted in his seat, while Bifur watched the proceedings with surprising attentiveness.

When Thorin's sight zeroed in on the hatted Dwarf once more, Bofur tried for a sheepish smile, but came up short. "Ha, well… As for her bein' here, that would be our doing," he admitted, referencing his kin. "We – Bifur, Bombur, and I – were gettin' ready to settle down for supper the other night, and then one of my brother's pots went rolling downhill, so o'course I chased after it. That's when we found her in the river, half-drowned and hurt on top of it all. We couldn't just leave her there, you understand, and she didn't have anywhere else to go…"

An uncomfortable silence followed when the Dwarf trailed off awkwardly.

"She should not have been brought to this meeting, regardless," Thorin said to him after a long second, and Bofur's demeanor became admonished. "She is not to be a part of this Company."

Bofur perked up suddenly. "Oh, that wasn't my idea."

Thorin looked one hundred percent done when he turned back to the wizard, who was then standing beside me. The presence was a small comfort during this fiasco. Like a magical grandpa who could vouch for me and who may or may not have further knowledge of my situation.

"That idea was mine, and if you would be so kind as to let me finish, then you would know why I suggested such a thing," Gandalf finally put in. " _As I was trying to tell you before,_ Miss Hollander was brought here from a different world entirely. The _Valar themselves_ sent her to aid in your expedition, Thorin Oakenshield, and if you turn down that kind of assistance then you are a much bigger fool than I took you for."

Ah. So the wizard _did_ know more than he let on.

Various things happened at that. Some of the Dwarves in the dining room began mumbling amongst each other, and I thought I heard Dori say something along the lines of, "He's got to be pulling our legs," followed by someone else saying, "Surely they would have sent another wizard instead?" _Dammit, Kili._

Meanwhile, Thorin was looking at me very thoughtfully, as though he couldn't decide if Gandalf was joking or not. I mean, I appeared strange enough, even though I seemed as intimidating as Kermit the Frog. I didn't think it would be very hard to tell that I was from a different world. My attempts not to squirm under his blue stare failed miserably, and I let my weakness show when I shifted my gaze away from the staring contest first.

Poor Bofur's face was a combination of enthusiastic and concerned, but that quickly faded into something else. I could basically see the puzzle pieces slotting into place as he glanced at my arm, remembering my tattoo, probably thinking its connection to all this made more sense. I wondered vaguely why the Ur family hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, even though they had almost gotten in trouble over bringing me.

When the mumbling quieted down, I was nervous. Thorin had been silent the entire time, Dwalin muttering something to him from his seat, and when he looked back to me, I knew exactly what he was going to say.

"My answer remains the same."

I let my shoulders drop, uncrossing my arms with alarm. What? I thought that he would surely change his mind at Gandalf's mention of the Valar, but it was plain to see that he didn't believe the wizard's words. I mean, I knew I didn't seem all that useful, but if I got left behind… I didn't want to think about that possibility. My survival skills were zilch, so following them in secret would only end with me dead. I _had_ to go with them.

Thorin turned to Gandalf with annoyance, and reiterated quietly, "I agreed to your terms with the Halfling, but I will not endanger a young woman as well, no matter who allegedly sent her."

Well, at least his reasons weren't _all_ just related to me being a nuisance.

An odd snuffling sound by my feet drew my attention away, and I realized that I had forgotten about Bilbo during our conversation. I quickly crouched down beside him as his face scrunched up with a small groan, and his eyes flickered open. I could hear chairs being scooted out as the Dwarves decided the debate was over. Their leader had spoken and that was that. From my spot on the floor, I watched Dwalin and Balin followed Thorin out of the atrium, and the others dispersed randomly, except for the Brothers Ur. Bofur quietly said something as Bombur nodded and Bifur sort-of-nodded. This resulted in Bofur staying behind, the other two vacating the premises with one more glance my way.

Gandalf heaved a sigh at the outcome of our conversation, grumbling to himself about Dwarves as Bilbo sat up woozily. He looked around for a moment with bleary eyes until he met my concerned face.

"…I passed out, didn't I?" the Hobbit commented upon noticing we were on the floor. I nodded, forgetting all about my injury when I went to help him stand. I had to let go almost instantly, wincing both at the sharp pain and at how Bilbo plopped back down on his bum.

I quickly mouthed, _'I'm sorry!'_

Though he looked uncomfortable at the sudden drop, he waved off the apology and stood up with Bofur's help instead, eyebrows creasing together when he noticed I was holding my arm. "Are you alright?" Bilbo asked me.

I shrugged, saying a silent, _'Sort of?'_

"I nearly forgot about yer wound, lass," Bofur pointed out worriedly, before heading out of the room. "Ye just sit tight and I'll be right back with Oín."

Gandalf stared after the Dwarf, a curious look on his face. Me and Bilbo exchanged glances, and the wizard suddenly looked down at me.

"I do believe Thorin will change his mind before this evening is done. I wouldn't worry about a thing, my dear," he said, a small smile playing on his face. He placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, maneuvering him towards the sitting room. "Come, Bilbo. We have matters to discuss..."

I was left standing in the atrium, wondering what the old man meant.

It wasn't long though before Bofur returned with the medic Dwarf in tow. Oín was carrying some kind of satchel as he motioned for me to take a seat at one of the dining room chairs, pulling one up for him as well.

"I was told ye have an injury that needs tending to?" the healer asked a bit loudly.

I simply nodded, pulling my hoodie off for better access to the wound, propping my left arm up on the table for him. I was glad to see that the cloth wrapped around the wound was still in place, and that there was no extra blood or anything.

"We're not exactly healers," Bofur chuckled, "but we did the best we could with what we had."

Oín just 'hmm'd as he unwrapped the makeshift bandaging. Again, the dried blood stuck to the tender skin of the cut when it was peeled off, but I forced myself not to flinch this time. I peeked over at the gash, not liking the fact that it hadn't begun to heal yet. The old Dwarf made a face. Probably not a fantastic sign.

"Aye, it's a good thing you came to me," Oín said. "I'm surprised an infection hadn't set in yet. The only downside is that ye'll need stitches or this isn't going to heal right, but it's nothing I can't handle."

I winced at the thought of stitches, but for the most part I was relieved, glad to hear he could take care of it. Bofur relaxed as well upon this news, and it touched me that he was so concerned.

There was another part of his expression that made me interested though. It was as if he was waiting for something, and when Oín pushed my t-shirt sleeve up the rest of the way to clean the cut properly, I realized what he had been expecting. One very important thing I forgot while distracted by my throbbing arm.

Oín paused, saying nothing. I panicked when I remembered and yanked my sleeve back down, slapping my hand over it defensively. This was just general dumbassery on my part, what with it being so close to the wound. I felt like half my face was wincing and half was staring like an idiot while I waited for him to say something.

It was a long moment before Oín reacted. He had been gazing at my sleeve for a good while, and finally met my eyes again, expression reminiscent of a parent who caught their kid shoving vegetables under the table to their dog. I slumped and exhaled, not bothering to resist when he pulled the sleeve back up to inspect my tattoo. "When were you planning on tellin' us about this, lass?" he questioned.

Oh God. I gradually began to tense again. Not afraid for my life or anything, but nervous. I knew there was a better chance of getting to go on the quest if they knew about it, but how was I going to explain it? Use shadow puppets?!

Ori was meandering by at that point, sipping at a cup of some warm beverage, when he spotted us. His attention was snagged by what was going on, peering over at my arm.

"That must hurt something awful, Miss," he stated about the wound, though when his vision shifted upwards a little, eyes growing wide, he dropped that subject in favor of another. "That looks like… is that what I think it is?"

Despite the oddity of my tattoo, Oín continued his treatment like a professional and pulled a small jar out of his medical bag, undoing the lid to rub some strange smelling paste on the cut. Dear flaming tits! What was that shit?! With the copious amount of stinging, I assumed it was some kind of disinfectant, and he wiped away the excess with a cloth. I grimaced at the odor and the pain as Oín finished with that, putting the paste back up only to drag out thread and a curved needle. Splendid.

"Lad, go and fetch Thorin for me, would you?" the healer directed to Ori, scooting closer to begin stitching. "Tell him there's… somethin' he needs to see."

 _Oh goodie,_ I thought to myself, glancing up to Bofur for reassurance. He watched as Ori padded out of the room quickly, then turned to me with an earnest expression, giving a slight shrug. My attention somewhat wavered when Oín began sewing me up. I had to clench my teeth and grip my pants leg with my free hand to prevent myself from wiggling, and also from looking like a total pansy. It was certainly a good thing I couldn't make noise or that would have flown out the window in a heartbeat.

"It'll turn out alright in the end, lass," Bofur said, referencing the tattoo situation. There was a moment of dithering as his eyes wandered down to the hall, before he looked back to me and asked, "So… are ye really from a different world? It would certainly explain a few things, if ye are. What the wizard said about the Valar and all… is it true?"

What was the point in denying it? Gandalf had already tried to inform them, though most of the Company didn't believe it. Bofur was probably the first real friend I would make here – at least, I _hoped_ we would be friends after he had been talking my ear off for three days, not to mention the fact that his family had saved my life, and he was legit the nicest person in the world ever. So yeah. I wanted to count him as a friend, and as such, I wanted him to be aware of what truth I could offer.

So, I gave him a small nod. His eyebrows went up a bit and he let out a low whistle.

"I guess I was right about that story of yours being interestin' then, eh?" he asked with a laugh. My spirits lifted a little and I smiled gratefully.

A few minutes passed as Oín finished, stitches looking all neat and professional before he bandaged it and my sleeve slipped back down on its own. It was then we heard footsteps approaching from down the hall and seconds later, Thorin rounded the corner. Not far behind him was Balin, and though there was no longer any sign of Dwalin, Ori followed them back to where we were waiting.

"What was it that you needed to show me, Oín?" Thorin asked, only glancing at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the medic, like he knew the interesting thing couldn't have possibly been me.

Oín didn't meet the king's gaze for long, instead giving me a stern look and simply saying, "Go on then."

 _Well, not like I have a choice._ I sighed, pulling my sleeve back up and wadding it around my shoulder while I shifted in my seat, angling so that Thorin could see what covered my upper arm.

I guess I should explain something about myself.

I had a weakness for maps. When I was a kid, I would draw an excessive amount of treasure maps, covering the fridge of my childhood home in little variations of them. Maps were neat, pleasing to the eye. They went places and told stories, but I was also just a lover of fantasy, so when you put a map of a magical world in front of me… well. I thought it was a great idea for my first tattoo.

Of course, I couldn't just get a simple map of Middle Earth, now could I? While that was cool and all, it would have been way too big and complicated, and I wanted to throw a quote underneath it for a finishing touch. Too much going on could take away from the ideal of it, but I desired the perfect tattoo. So, I decided on an alternative.

That's how Thorin wound up staring at his grandfather's map, tattooed on my arm, runes and all.

In fine lines, the Lonely Mountain was drawn on my shoulder, a tiny red Smaug circling the skin above it. The pointed hand which told of the secret passage rested on the front of my arm and the rest of the map and its scripts wrapped all the way around. I was glad I had not turned further, or they would have been able to pick out the barely-visible Moon Runes I had included into the tattoo, in white ink. I didn't know how their learning of the map's secret writing too early would affect the timeline, but it wasn't as though any of them could read ancient Dwarvish. They would still need Elrond's help, so I tried not to worry.

Beneath it all, right above my bandaged cut, was the quote I chose as well. I had it written in font that matched the location names so that it would blend with the overall visual. I hoped for my own sanity that they wouldn't point it out, though.

The wait was agonizing as Thorin studied the ink on my arm, and for a short-lived second, I could see the bewilderment in his eyes, his mouth opening just the tiniest bit. If this were a less intense situation, it would have been almost funny, but he quickly schooled his face into a more collected expression. I met his gaze with trepidation, knowing that this was probably beyond weird for him, though it rapidly became weird for me too as another staring contest ensued.

He was, understandably, confused.

"Thorin…?" interrupted a concerned Balin, glancing between my tattoo and the king, looking quite surprised at the development as well.

Thorin took a step forward and it felt like he was looming over me. That may have been the effect he was going for, though, as he said slowly, "I only just learned of this map's existence mere moments ago, and yet here I find it, permanently etched onto a woman we know nothing about. One from the race of Men, no less."

I willed myself not to break the stare and dropped my hand from my sleeve. The shirt stayed wadded up over my shoulder this time, leaving the uncanny tattoo on display.

"How is this possible?" the king asked, though he knew perfectly well I couldn't explain.

There was no way I could tell the whole truth, and only telling half the truth would probably be twice as confusing – especially if I had to educate them via interpretive dance. I grimaced while trying to figure out an answer that would pacify him, and to my horror, I slowly wound up shrugging. _Shrugging!_

His brows lowered dangerously, making me want to slam my head against a wall. That was honestly the dodgiest blooming answer I could have given.

There were others who had joined the group by that point, wondering what could possibly warrant their king's attention in this Hobbit Hole. Fili and Kili entered warily from the left hall, followed by Dwalin, who raised a bushy eyebrow when he saw what the topic revolved around. Ori was mumbling something to his brothers at Dori's insistence, letting them know what was going on.

Kili scooted forward to get a better look, Fili close behind, and their eyes widened comically at the sight. I might have laughed if the there wasn't a suspicious Dwarf king hovering right in front of me.

"Isn't that the map Gandalf brought you?" the youngest prince asked.

"Aye, it is," Thorin said shortly, staring at the tattoo again. I couldn't blame him.

Fili was the one who finally peered closer at the quote under the map, and I froze as he said, "That part… it's a bit different than yours though. 'If more of us valued food and song and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world'?"

If anything, Thorin's glowering turned even more troubled as he shared a look with his nephew. He obviously had no way of knowing those were his dying words, but the relevance to gold sickness couldn't have been lost on him. It was something he worried about, wasn't it? I really wondered what Thorin was thinking at that moment, arms crossed once more, steely eyes boring holes into me like a puzzle he couldn't find the last piece to.

"That's oddly… _specific_ , don't you think?" Kili asked uncertainly. I was under the impression I had grown a second head, the way he was looking at me.

"Perhaps Gandalf's story was not so far-fetched after all," Balin hypothesized.

"Of course it was not 'far-fetched'," said Gandalf as he entered the room, with a curious Bilbo lingering a few feet behind. Gandalf apparently did not know quite as much as I thought, however, because he stopped short when he noticed my arm. "Oh dear… Well, this is certainly an unexpected development."

All eyes turned towards the wizard, and I was thankful when Thorin finally let up on his glaring in favor of looking over as well. I knew he was more than a little distrustful at that moment and frankly, I could see why.

"What is _this_?" Thorin questioned, gesturing vaguely towards my arm.

Still observing, Gandalf answered, bemused, "It appears to be a tattoo."

"I can see that," the king informed with a dangerous note. He was obviously trying to keep his cool when he continued, "A tattoo of a map that up until now was in _your_ possession. Is this your way of persuading me to bring her along? A magic trick?"

"Heavens, no. I only just met Miss Hollander this evening, on the doorstep. How could I have possibly had time for such a thing?" Gandalf asked.

Thorin's patience was microscopic, and I wanted to scoot far away from this discussion. "How? You're a wizard, you tell me."

Gandalf was unruffled but firm as he replied, "I had nothing to do with this and I would thank you not to accuse me of such. Though, I did try to tell you she was here for a reason. If this is not proof enough for you, then I do not know what is."

Thorin scowled at him for a good moment longer before the Dwarf's gaze reluctantly shifted to my tattoo for the umpteenth time. Without the explanation of it being a magic trick, his confusion was slowly coming back, and I could see some serious gears turning.

There was a long silence, until Balin sighed, "The Brothers Ur finding Miss Hollander is more than coincidental, there's no denying it. Something like this does not just happen, out of the blue, with no otherworldly involvement."

Thorin seemed mildly taken aback as he looked over, asking, "What are you saying, Balin?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying, lad. We might not like it, but I fear that disregarding a connection of such enormity would be… unwise, to say the least," Balin reasoned. Truth be told, I was a little astonished by his words.

At the other's comment, Thorin appeared more thoughtful than agitated, unlike the entire beginning half of this conversation where I was sure he would just stick with his original choice. Balin was someone he trusted entirely. The decision seemed on the fence at last, and hope sparked in my chest at his deliberation. He was considering it. Thorin was really, _honestly_ considering it.

"Do ye even know how to defend yourself? How to use any kind of weapon? Of course ye don't," Dwalin directed at me, sharing an unconvinced look with his brother, and worse, with Thorin. My fragile determination wobbled. "The Burglar is one thing. A naïve lass with no experience in the world is another matter entirely."

Gandalf responded to this, saying, "Experience she may lack, but I believe wholeheartedly that Miss Hollander will be a valuable addition. One can always learn to fight, if necessary, and I fail to see how another helping hand would not benefit this Company."

"We've enough _helpin' hands_ ," Dwalin said, staring at the wizard like he was halfway brain-dead. "A tattoo does not a warrior make, no matter what it's of."

A weighty few seconds of quiet followed, before a surprising voice spoke up.

"Not all of us are warriors though… are we?" came the quiet reply of Ori.

The rest of the group was also not expecting him to say anything, apparently, as heads immediately turned towards him. The scribe didn't seem aware that he'd spoken out loud. When he realized it, he mumbled an apology and clammed up again, but the words were out.

Balin had the beginnings of a smile on his face, nodding a bit, and facing Dwalin again. "He has a point, brother. If it was only warriors we were looking to recruit, then there's been quite a mix-up."

Said brother made no comeback, huffing through his nose in a quiet, sarcastic laugh of sorts.

"It's true. We're already a bit of an odd bunch – what's one more?" Kili asked Thorin, unashamedly honest.

By then, everyone's attention was on the leader of the Company, who appeared more than a little agitated that his choice was seemingly already made for him. We knew the final decision was ultimately his to make, even though it was obvious that I was meant to be there. I sat with strained calmness as he glanced back to trade looks with a few in the group, like he was taking an unspoken vote, and studied me again.

Thorin thought for a moment, but must have seen something in my face since he then asked about my tattoo. "Is there anyone outside present company that knows of this?"

I shook my head, suddenly encouraged by the direction this was going.

"And you are, somehow, already aware of what our intention is on this quest?" he deduced sharply.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that I knew a few things. I pursed my lips, blinking down at my shoulder and back to him, attempting to reign in my _'duh'_ expression. I never did have a good poker face though. Oh man, if looks could kill, then Thorin wouldn't even have to worry about bringing me anymore.

His voice was unnervingly calm as he stated, "So you know this is not just some hike across the land. You know there will be no commodities or comforts of home, and safety is not a promise. That every step we take will only put us in more peril. You know what kind of beast awaits us, what we plan to do… and you still believe you can be of use?"

Oh God. I knew he was testing me or trying to scare me or whatever, and it was almost working, but I had to show that I was committed to this. My neck almost didn't respond as I willed myself to nod.

Thorin paused, as if remembering something, and then said, "What is your incentive? I've yet to make any mention of payment should our venture be a success, and you've already agreed. Were you not expecting any sort of reward?"

I frowned in confusion at the direction the questions took. Um, no? It honestly hadn't crossed my mind. My incentive was to make sure three of these dorks didn't wind up as Durin-kabobs, but beyond that, there was no further thought on my part. What was I going to do with a bunch of Dwarf gold? It wasn't as if I could carry it all back home, assuming I could go back at all, so I shook my head at him.

For some reason, this made his frown worse, and my head stilled. There was no winning with this guy, was there?

"If the _Valar_ did in fact send you, then I trust I will not come to regret this decision," he said, a thinly veiled threat hovering in there somewhere.

I didn't know whether to nod at that or not.

"I cannot risk this map falling into the wrong hands," he stated loud enough for the others to hear, unhappy resignation in his tone. "In order to reclaim Erebor, none of our enemies can learn of the hidden passage or the key. If that means we must add you to our Company to keep an eye on you, so be it."

I was little off-put by the way he worded it – like I was going to run to the Orcs and show them my shoulder? – but if it meant I could come, then that was enough. I was really torn between offense and joy.

The others seemed to have varying reactions as well, since some of them were babbling with intrigue at the development (i.e. Fili and Kili, Nori and Ori) whereas the rest had frowns that could rival their leader's. Honestly, I think the only neutral was Balin, but even he looked on the edge of disagreement regardless of his earlier words.

Hardly a second passed before Thorin directed his gaze back onto me, and I tried not to flinch as he quietly added, "I will have answers to how this map came to be on your person, voice or no."

Thorin was already stalking off before I could respond to that. I sat up a bit straighter, realizing I had cowed down involuntarily, and scolded myself.

 _So much for my strong resolve…_

* * *

 _ **As always, feedback is treasured. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, what you thought of the tattoo reveal, anything! Likes, dislikes, what you're looking forward to. I love all reviews, even the tiny ones. :D**_

 ** _Just as a reminder, I'll be updating every OTHER Monday, until I notify you otherwise._**

 _ **Thank you for reading~ Until next time!**_


	7. The Night

_**You people are fantastic to me~! Every review has put a smile on my face, and I can never thank you enough!**_

 _ **Continue on, my dear audience. :)**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or its characters.**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Seven**

* * *

After the Dwarves went back about their business and scattered to tell the others of my joining the group, I finally got Gandalf alone. He raised an eyebrow when I hurried over, mouthing _'You. Me. Talk.'_ while pointing to him, then myself, and tacked on a jabbering motion with my hand. I pointed a thumb down the hall as well. Even if it was just the illusion of privacy, it felt better than questioning him out in the open room. He complied easy enough, though he did have to hunch a bit in the short hallway.

"What is the matter, Miss Hollander?" Gandalf asked. He seemed genuinely interested.

 _'This!'_ I answered mutely, gesturing to my throat. I tried to wave my hands towards him in a way that suggested he use magic to fix it.

He maintained an amiable face, though his words were serious, as he told me, "Oh no, I'm afraid that's out of my hands, dear. The Valar do not intervene as such without good reason, so I can only assume there is a lesson you are meant to learn from it."

Yeah, sure, okay. _'So?'_

"Your voice will return when they decide it and no sooner," Gandalf explained. "I cannot simply undo this form of magic. I do not have that kind of power, nor is it my place."

I felt myself slouch with this news, already having known deep down there was no way for him to give me my voice back. As bummed out as this made me, I still had another question. This was more out of curiosity than anything, as I had a hunch of what the answer was, but I couldn't come up with a good way to word it.

Glancing around the hall, I spotted a vase of flowers on a shelf. Gently as possible, so not to actually crush the plants, I plucked a few out and held them atop my head in mimicry of the woman I saw.

 _'Who?'_ I asked, gesturing to the improvised flower crown.

There was a moment of befuddlement while he was trying to decipher my crazy actions. I felt ridiculous when I had to use my other hand to strike a girly pose, setting my face to what I hoped was a regal expression and tilting my chin upward. I wiggled my fingers off to the side to show magic, and relaxed, taking off the flower crown, patting my chest, and pointing to the floor with a tiny stomp. When Gandalf _finally_ understood, his eyebrows shot up in legitimate surprise.

"Gracious. You saw the Valar who brought you here?" he questioned, and I nodded. "Flowers… It must have been the Lady Yavanna. I have to say that is a very great gift in of itself, my dear. For her to show herself in such a way to a mortal… I can only imagine what your importance to this quest is."

There was a long moment of profound silence as he regarded me. Of course, the answer to my question was as I had suspected – that it had been Yavanna who I saw. Or, a phantom-like version of her, anyway. I was pretty sure that the Valar wouldn't actually be able to pop up and say hi to random citizens, but then again, up until a few days ago I had been pretty sure that Middle Earth wasn't real, so my surety of anything was fragile at best.

I sighed deeply, both from exasperation at my situation and just plain fatigue, then turned to put the flowers back in their vase of water.

"I was not lying when I said I believed you would be an asset to this company," the wizard kindly said, obviously trying to cheer me up.

I gave a look of skepticism and propped a hand on my hip. Other than the obvious 'change' I miraculously had to make at the end of the quest (which he didn't even know about yet, and so was a moot point), I really had no idea how I would be useful.

Gandalf only chuckled at my doubt, insisting, "The Valar would not have brought you to Middle Earth on a mere whim. You were chosen for a reason, Miss Hollander; the others will see that in due time, and so will you."

A hush followed as I stared at him, mildly encouraged. My hand slowly slid from my hip and an embarrassed smile of self-depreciation made its way forward. He should just write motivational books or something, honestly.

"Now, I recommend you get a bit of rest, as the morning will be here before you know it," Gandalf added, and our short conversation felt done.

The wizard went off to do who-knows-what and I shuffled back down the hall, where I remembered setting my backpack. I needed to sort through it and take out the unnecessary crap before we started the journey, and see what I had that would actually be of use.

In the entrance hall, I spotted my bag atop a slim table against the wall, and made my way over. As I went to grab it though, I heard a deep hum. Multiple deep hums, coming from the room to my right. Within the first note, I recognized what was going on, and silenced my movements as I slipped my backpack over my shoulder.

 _"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,_

 _To dungeons deep, and caverns old._

 _We must away, ere break of day,_

 _To find our long forgotten gold."_

Thorin's voice was joined by the rest of the Dwarves in singing of their loss. I crept closer, but didn't dare peek around the doorway for fear they would see me. It felt like I would be intruding on a private moment for them, time for mourning that they wouldn't be getting any more of for a long while, though I knew the song was partially to convince Bilbo to come along. Somewhere in the house, the Hobbit was sitting on his bed listening in as well.

 _"The pines were roaring, on the height,_

 _The winds were moaning, in the night._

 _The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

 _The trees like torches, blazed with light."_

My throat felt tight as I was reminded, once again, that Erebor existed here. These were real people who had lost their home to fire and destruction – something I was lucky enough to never go through. Yet another moment that made me wonder what Yavanna could have possibly been thinking by sending _me_. I would never truly understand how the Dwarves felt. The hardships of my life were few and far between, and of a completely different nature besides.

I was _so_ not the right candidate for this.

A silence stretched on after the final note of their song had finished, though it was eventually interrupted by their leader's voice.

"All of you get some sleep," said Thorin. "We will be leaving at first light."

Ugh. All thoughts of dragons and homes were pushed aside at hearing this. I was not a morning person. It looked like I would have to become one though, since this would likely be our schedule from then on.

I heard the Company shuffling about from inside the parlor and took that as my cue to go. Bag End was a pretty large home, and I still had no idea which room I was supposed to sleep in, or if it even mattered. I crept back down past the parlor's other door and into the West Hall, looking for the guest bedroom that I knew was somewhere back there. Once I finally located it, I realized that there were no lights on inside, and hurriedly grabbed a candle from the hall to light the ones in the room.

 _Living before electricity must have been an absolute pain in the ass_ , I thought, closing the bedroom door behind me. I lit two large candles that were perched on the walls, blowing out the extra.

The room looked cozy in the dim glow of the candles and the moonlight filtering through the round window, not to mention much more organized than any bedroom I had ever lived in myself. There was a single little bed with plush quilts and fluffy pillows, their cases having white crocheted flowers all over them. The wooden bed frame appeared sturdy, and there was a dresser made of the same wood. A petite matching table sat beside the bed, holding a large oil lamp and more crocheted doilies, and all in all it reminded me of my grandma's house. Minus electricity.

I set my backpack down on the floor and began dumping the contents. Pencil bag, notebooks, cell phone, calculator, a library copy of _The Last Unicorn_ , two granola bars, my water bottle, several feminine products in a baggy with some Tylenol, my (thankfully) small literature class text, and my wallet.

I put the unnecessary things aside, as it was getting late, and we would be departing "at first light" – also known as the butt-crack of dawn. I had no wish to get on Thorin's bad side on the very first day, and I figured slowing down their launch would be less than helpful. If I overslept and they didn't wake me, there was also a very good chance that I would have to run after them with Bilbo, and running was not on the list of things I was good at.

I then remembered how much of that I was going to have to do, regardless.

 _Ugh, I'm totally going to die._

I put the baggy of feminine products and pain meds back in the bag, knowing I would definitely need those. Of course, the tampon and pad supply was maybe only enough for one cycle, so I knew I would run out and have to resort to the medieval methods they used here, but I was going to put that off for as long as I could.

 _The Last Unicorn_ also went in, as I figured one tiny bit of entertainment couldn't hurt. Though it was crinkled and damaged from the river, it was still readable. Mostly. I flipped through a few times, finding a some pages that were permanently stuck together, but I'd read it once before - a long time ago. Boredom was not a good look for me, so I went ahead and added it all the same.

I glanced over my pens and the notebooks then, hoping that even if I wasn't allowed to write words, maybe I would still be allowed to doodle. Surely Yavanna would allow me that? _'You cannot create words, be it with voice or ink, until the fulfillment of this task.'_ That's what she had said. She didn't say anything about drawing...

Curious, I clicked one of the pens and opened a notebook to the first page. I tried to write my name, but the pen just… didn't write. The imprints of the letters on the paper weren't even there, no matter how much pressure I used. On the other hand, when I went to scribble and test if the ink was okay, the little zig-zag of swirls showed up just fine. Dafuq?

Back and forth, I alternated between trying actual writing and mindless doodling, and eventually came to the conclusion that it only worked when I had no end goal. I couldn't even draw a tree or a box. Just squiggles.

 _That's messed up, Yavanna,_ I thought sourly, but wound up putting two of the pens and the smallest notebook into my backpack regardless.

I saw no point in bringing my wallet, since I doubted the markets around here took debit. My cell phone and my calculator hadn't worked since arriving here (no signal, plus the river debacle), so I set them and my Batman wallet in one of the dresser drawers, beside my extra notebook and my literature text.

I put the granola bars and my water bottle back into my pack with the other necessary items before declaring myself finished. Of course, I would have to acquire several things when we stopped in Bree somehow, even though I didn't have any money from this world. I figured if I couldn't come up with a different way to earn the money, I would just take the bet tomorrow on whether or not Bilbo would join them. It felt sneaky and underhanded, since I already knew the outcome, but I tried my best not to feel guilty. My hands were tied, really.

I only allowed myself to think on this moral dilemma for a second before realizing how tired I was. I went to blow out the candles before tossing off my shoes, hoodie, and – as long as I was inside a building and not camping – my bra. If I could preserve it just a little bit longer by not sleeping in it when I could, then great.

After that, the cushy bed swallowed me and I was out.

* * *

It felt like I had barely closed my eyes when there was a knock at the door.

I didn't want to raise my eyelids. It was warm and snug under the heavy covers, and my sleepy mind didn't recall anything important happening. When I heard another few knocks, and the sound of the door opening, I scrunched my eyebrows together as I forced my eyes to open.

"Goodmornin', lass," greeted Bofur from the doorway.

I peeked over my shoulder, squinting at the Dwarf. There was hardly any light coming through the small window at all, but it was definitely morning, causing me to groan. Or, let out a strained breath that _would_ have been a groan. We hadn't woken up anywhere near this early during the few days of travel we had done together, but then again, Thorin was leading the pack now.

Bofur let out a small chuckle at my discontent, then said, "If you'll be wantin' breakfast before we hit the road, ye best get on up. Don't give me that look now, missy."

I didn't even realize I was glaring. Rubbing the heels of my palms across my eyes, I sat up and gave him a sarcastic smile that was part snarl.

"That's the spirit!" he laughed, knowing full-well that no such spirit was present.

The Dwarf waltzed back down the hall, leaving me to roll out of the plush heaven. The cool air alone was enough to make me consider just bundling up again like a happy burrito and forgetting all my problems, but noooo. I had to go save the stupid line of Durin.

I huffed and stood, putting my boob-holding torture device back on, along with my hoodie and sneakers. I only glanced at the small hand mirror on the dresser long enough to smooth out my dark, crazy hedgehog hair and look more presentable. My brain was not yet in "awake" mode, and probably wouldn't be for a while, so looking like a damn L'Oreal advert was the least of my concerns.

Once I got myself to not look like gravity had stopped working, I grabbed my backpack so I wouldn't have to come back down the hall to fetch it when it was time to go. Of course, my bladder was screeching at me, so I dropped my bag in the hall by the others' things. After taking care of business, I took a moment to wash up a bit more thoroughly than I had the previous night. Though I still felt like I needed a bath, I knew how fast these Dwarves could eat, so I quickly headed back to where I saw the group.

The dining room was not nearly as chaotic as it was the night before. Everyone seemed to be in good enough spirits, but there was a bit of seriousness to it all. This gloom was likely because as far as they knew, they no longer had a burglar, so their quest was already off to a rocky start. Not to mention they had just been saddled with me, the human potato.

I figured if I wasn't going to be super useful, I could at least try and keep morale up. I gave a good morning smile to Bifur and Bombur, who were already eating, receiving smiles back in return. The seat next to Bifur was open, so I wound around, making a plate of the breakfast on the table before sitting. Most of the others were in the process of eating as well and I was glad Bofur woke me up when he did, or it would have been goodbye breakfast.

Ori and Nori were sat across the table from us, the younger of the two studying me when he didn't think I was looking, though Nori was not so shy as to hide his interest in the oddity that was me. I gave an awkward smile to the two, getting a short, "Morning," from Nori, and a tiny smile from Ori.

I counted it as a win, eating the rest of my breakfast.

Once everyone had finished, they cleaned up quite nicely, leaving no trace that they had even been in the house at all. It was pretty impressive for all the lunacy they brought into Bilbo's home the night before. I ran to use the bathroom one last time and refilled my water bottle, coming out as everyone was gathering their things up and heading out the door. I quickly grabbed my backpack, putting my bottle back inside the bag and following.

On my way out though, something on the table in the entrance hall caught my eye, and I debated for a second before grabbing the object and stowing it in my hoodie pocket for Bilbo later. Really, how could I resist?

I thought I was the last one, but as I made to leave, I spotted Balin in the other room. There was a long sheet of paper in his hand, and I realized it was the contract as he set it down on a chair. He looked at it for a moment with his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, a small frown on his face.

I paused, unsure of whether to wait on him or what, but that decision was made for me when he turned to leave and realized I was watching like a creeper.

"Oh, Miss Hollander, I didn't see you there," he said. The surprise wore off quickly, and he gave me a dry smile, looking back at the contract then to me. "Thought I'd leave this for Mister Baggins, in case… Well, it's not likely, but you never know."

 _Wise decision there, Balin._ I nodded to him, knowing that the Dwarf's hope would not be in vain.

We stepped out of the house, and he closed the door behind us as we headed off towards the others. The ponies were gathered a little ways down the road with the Company securing their gear to the saddles. I tried not to get too excited. Of all the things in Middle Earth to get wound up about, the thought of riding a freaking pony was the one that got to me. I almost wanted to slap myself. I used to ride ponies at fairs and things when I was a kid, but that hardly qualified as riding. Since I lived in the city, there were only a few times in my life that I got to ride an actual horse, and those were some of my fondest memories.

Balin went off to prepare his own pony when I saw Gandalf wave me over.

"Goodmorning, Miss Hollander. I trust you slept well?" he asked conversationally. I nodded. "Excellent. This morning I had the misfortune of trying to procure an extra pony for you…"

The pause killed me. I wasn't going to have to share, was I? Oh god.

The wizard smirked and guided his horse to the side, shutting up my fears. Behind his horse stood a large shaggy pony, mostly grey in coloring. The nose looked as if it had been dipped in a puddle of black ink, but overall, the animal looked like a big fluffy raincloud. Albeit, a raincloud with a saddle, but one all the same.

Gandalf was amused by the grin on my face. "She was quite hard to come by on such short notice, but it appears as though luck was on your side."

I let the mare smell my hand, petting the length of her nose once she was comfortable. She was so adorable. Attempting to find my chill and not act like a five year old at a petting zoo, I turned to Gandalf with a slightly calmer face, mouthing, _'Thank you.'_

"You are most welcome, my dear," the wizard chuckled, leading his own horse closer to the front of the group before mounting. He made it look so frickin' easy.

I guided mine closer as well, unsure of how I was going to get up. I had only ever used step-stools to get on the animals before, and I was not known for my coordination, so this was going to be horrible. Putting it off for a moment longer, I tied my bag to the saddle as I had seen the others do. It was only me and four others who had yet to hop on, and that number was dwindling to three, then two, so I made my attempt.

I planted my foot in the stirrup, bringing my other leg up with not nearly enough momentum. There were some snickers from the Company as I stumbled backwards, pulling my foot from the saddle and trying not to land on my ass.

"Do you need assistance, Miss Jenna?" I heard from behind me. I turned to see Kili, the only other one who had yet to get on his pony. I could tell he was trying not to laugh, and the same went for his brother who was already mounted next to us.

I shook my head a little and made an effort not to be rude about it. The sight of them made my stomach clench again, but I had better prepared myself for the feeling this time. Honestly, I couldn't go choking up every time I saw these two, or this was going to be one horrible journey.

"Have you ever ridden before?" Fili asked, only partially joking.

I tried not to scowl, nodding quickly before turning back to the pony with determination. We hadn't even started the quest yet and they already thought I was incapable of mounting a damn pony – given, it was a tall pony, but still.

"There's no shame in asking for help," Kili put in, a bit closer.

I put my foot back in the stirrup and gripped the horn of the saddle, jumping, kicking my leg out higher this time. When it actually made it over I was elated, and quickly adjusted myself on the animal before I could fall off.

At the front of the group, Gandalf had been speaking with Thorin about something, though their conversation appeared done just as I got settled. Not a second too soon, it seemed.

Thorin stared back at his nephew for a moment, obviously unhappy. "Kili, on your pony. We're behind enough as it is," he called, before turning his own steed and leading the group onward.

Kili looked like a fish for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, then closing it. He glanced up at me, and I shrugged, trying not to giggle at his expression. Fili on the other hand was making no such attempt, sniggering as Kili jumped up onto his ride, the three of us leading our mounts after the rest of the Company.

As we officially set off, I allowed myself to relax around them ever so slightly; the final battle was still so far away – I had time. _They_ had time.

"This is what I get for trying to be a gentleman," Kili mock sighed. My eyes rolled automatically.

"It would take more than that to make you into a gentleman, brother," Fili chuckled.

The younger scoffed. "And I suppose you would be an expert on that?"

Fili smirked, stating proudly and wiggling his eyebrows at me, "Why yes, I would be. I'm sure our lady here can tell a gentleman when she sees one."

I resisted the urge for a moment, but wound up lifting my hand to my brow, pretending to shield the sun from my eyes as I gazed around us with exaggerated movements. I turned back to Fili, shrugging and trying not to give a cheeky smile when his face turned sour.

Kili grinned like a little shit and leaned over, lightly pushing his brother. "I think I like this one."

* * *

 _ **So. We've figured out a few things, and the group is finally leaving Bag End! Now the real fun begins. ;D**_

 _ **Let me know what you thought - what you like, what you didn't like, anything! I adore all of your reviews, so don't be shy.**_

 _ **Once again, thank you very much for reading~ Until next time!**_


	8. The Necessities

**_You guys make my day~ Seriously, every review has me giddy as a kid in a candy shop. I will never stop thanking you all, and if I do, then assume I have been taken over by an alien brain worm._**

 ** _You have all been so fantastically patient, so without further ado, next chapter!_**

 ** _(Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or its characters.)_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

The morning was rather uneventful after the initial get-go. There was no dramatic travelling music and panning, bird's eye camera shots, and especially no time skips. I was easily entertained by the scenery though, so it wasn't quite as boring as I would have thought. I've mentioned before that I never got out much back home, so the amount of unharmed nature was beyond gorgeous to me, even if the others acted like it was the dullest thing they had ever seen. Which actually, to them, it probably was.

Sometime during my sight-seeing, I overheard a conversation that Bofur had become involved in.

"Oh, I don't know," he piped up, speaking to Dori. "He seemed a bit on the fence about it, if ye ask me. Might still change his mind."

"I can't see why he would," Dori said from a few ponies ahead. "He has all he needs in that little house of his – which, in case it escaped your notice, was quite a bit larger than those other little hill homes. No, Mister Baggins will stay right where he is."

Ah, so they were talking about Bilbo.

"Ye absolutely sure?" Bofur asked, a sly note in his voice.

Nori smirked, twisting in his saddle to look at Dori, joining the talk. "You willin' to put a wager on that?"

Riding beside me, Fili's attention was snagged, as was his brother's on the other side of him. The two princes exchanged a glance, as I noticed they did quite often, like they were pulling the same telepathic bologna that Yavanna had.

Dori scoffed. "I'll not make any more bets with you, Nori, not since that incident."

"It was just a lil badger," Nori persisted with a laugh. "When will you be over that?"

"When you're greeting Mahal himself and explaining how you scarred your little brother for life, that's when," countered Dori. Ori shrank down on the pony next to him, trying to avoid being drawn into the conversation. The eldest huffed, continuing, "Point is, I'll not be doing that again. A wager from someone else, maybe, but not you."

"I'll bet that Mister Boggins will change his mind," Kili said brightly.

Next to me, Fili spoke up, "As will I." Taking my chance, I waved my hand to the blonde prince, getting his attention then pointing to myself. He understood easily, adding quickly, "And Miss Jenna will too."

Several of the Dwarves turned to give me a curious look, unsure of the betting shenanigans if I was going to be involved. Suspicious turds… Bofur easily swayed the others though when he took the wager in favor of Bilbo as well, giving me a smile. Good guy Bofur, saving my oddball ass once again.

By the end of it, the Company was split. Fili, Kili, Bofur, Nori, Balin, Gandalf, Oin, and I, bet that Bilbo would come. The others didn't think the Hobbit would leave the safety of his home, and if I didn't already know how it would turn out, I probably would have thought the same. I was mildly baffled though, because of what I could remember from the movie, Nori had bet _against_ Bilbo coming… This bothered me a little more than it probably should have, but I shrugged it off as faulty memory.

Unsurprisingly though, Thorin was adamant about his belief that Bilbo would not be joining them, and Dwalin insisted just as strongly, like the rest of them.

By the time late morning hit, their doubts were dashed when we heard a little voice shouting, "Wait!"

The ponies were halted as we turned to see Bilbo Baggins sprinting towards the group, waving the contract in the air like a banner. When he caught up and slowed next to Balin, handing off the paper, he proudly stated, "I signed it!"

The old Dwarf pulled out a reading glass, giving a teasing look as he inspected the contract. "Everything appears to be in order," he said, folding it again. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield." Balin gave a quick wink to the Hobbit, who smiled in return.

At the front of the group, Thorin looked like he wanted nothing more than to burn the contract and flee before Bilbo could catch up again. Instead, he just ordered, "Give him a pony," before turning his own away to continue on.

Bilbo protested until Fili and Kili hauled him up onto the designated pony, pulling a horrible face once he was seated. I was glad Gandalf had snagged me an extra ride, because once the Hobbit had his own, all the ponies were heavily occupied, including the one who was carrying the supplies that had been moved to make room for Bilbo. I would have hated to try and bog down the other animals with the extra weight.

Bilbo's frown didn't cease as he gripped the reigns gingerly, as if he was afraid they would suddenly gain sentience and strangle him. He was very expressive and it didn't take much to figure out that he was unsettled by riding.

I waited for him to get situated and rode up beside his left, as Gandalf did the same on the opposite side. The Company was off again ahead of us, and we slowly caught up while Bilbo tried not to fidget every time the animal made a movement. I gave him a reassuring grin.

He glanced over to me, saying a quick, "Goodmorning, Miss Hollander," before frantically eyeballing the pony when it snorted. "You look a bit more comfortable with these… ponies."

I merely looked at him and patted my mount – who I had named Stormy in my head – to try and display their safety. The Hobbit didn't seem convinced.

From ahead of us, I heard Nori call out, "Come on, pay up!"

Again, the words felt off in the betting scenario, though this time I was sure something had changed. Was I already messing with the flow of the story? I couldn't recall anything that I had done so far, other than bet as well. Why would that have mattered to these guys?

My mind wandered and I was almost hit in the face with a pouch of coins. I barely managed to throw my hands in front of my nose in time, and I looked around, not entirely sure who had tossed it.

Bilbo became confused at all the throwing of tiny, jingling bags, asking Gandalf what was going on.

"They took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up," the wizard answered. "Several of them bet that you wouldn't."

There was a pause. Then Bilbo inquired, "And what did you think?"

Gandalf 'hm'd mischievously, waiting til he caught his own coin pouch to chuckle, "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."

Bilbo turned my way in unspoken question, and I jingled my bag with a smile before stowing it away. He seemed to relax a bit until his nose twitched and he sniffled, remembering his location upon the pony. A small sneeze escaped him and he groaned slightly.

"All this horse hair," he complained, searching his pockets. "I'm having a reaction." When his search for whatever it was came up empty handed, he suddenly exclaimed, "Wait – wait… stop! Stop! We have to turn around!"

As the ponies slowed, the Company coming to a halt, Gandalf questioned in an exasperated tone, "What on Earth is the matter?"

I abruptly remembered what I had stuffed in my pocket before leaving Bilbo's house, having forgotten to give it to him during all the betting drama.

The Hobbit patted down his person again, beginning to answer, "I've forgotten my – "

I pulled out the little cloth with his initials on it, his words cutting off when he saw what I held out to him. An expression of confusion crossed over Bilbo for a good few seconds. Consequences be damned, I was simply unable to pass up the chance to mess with him.

"…handkerchief," he finished belatedly. Bilbo gingerly took the fabric offered to him, mouth still open slightly, and I tried to suppress a smirk. Sure, knowledge of the future, great power and great responsibility, blah, blah, blah. But his face totally made it worth playing around a little.

The questioning eyebrow that I received from Gandalf, however, was less exciting. I just shrugged to the wizard, letting the smirk finally show through a bit. At the front of the group, Thorin watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, and my smile died a bit at the suspicious gaze.

"Move on," Thorin eventually said to the Company, turning his horse away and continuing forward.

As we did just that, Bilbo didn't seem quite over the handkerchief thing, carefully guiding his pony closer to mine. "When… How did you – Did you know I would come?" He asked in a hushed tone. "You either knew I would join you and forget my handkerchief, or you attempted to steal a handkerchief of all things – which seems a bit of a strange thing to do…"

I blinked at him, unsure of how to handle this. In front of us, Fili and Kili were not-so-inconspicuously eavesdropping, turning their heads to listen better when they thought I wasn't paying attention. So I had those two to concern myself with as well. I'd forgotten how curious this Hobbit was, but I mean, curiosity was what led him to do all this in the first place, wasn't it? Damn… Maybe consequences were a bit more important than I initially thought.

Deciding on a strategy, I put a finger to my lips in the 'shush' sign, giving him an apologetic smile. I couldn't explain anything to him right now, even if I somehow thought that was a good idea. Playing around with handkerchiefs was one thing, but trying to tell them the truth without giving away the _entire_ truth was a bit more difficult. I wanted to be friends with these guys, and friendship requires honesty, but that's kind of difficult when your whole mission is based on secrets, no?

Bilbo's nose scrunched for a split second as he stared me down. His eyes were all intelligence and wit, and he totally knew I was hiding more than just a map tattoo. I couldn't escape inquiries with my silence forever. He recognized this, I recognized this – and if the murmuring princes ahead of us were anything to go by – so did the rest of the crowd.

"You're certainly an unusual one, Miss Hollander," Bilbo finally said, having mercy and allowing a cap to be put on that particular topic.

I let myself relax after a while, when it was obvious no more questions were going to be dropped upon me for the time being. The company was mostly quiet as we rode, save for a few groups playing catch up and chatting about mundane things. Maybe they were just mundane to me though, since I had never had to make a living off of hunting or trading goods. Unless you counted trading Pokémon cards. In that case, I was golden.

It took us roughly two and a half days to reach our first destination, Bree. Until I could get my own sleeping gear, this required me to borrow the blanket from Bofur again and half the Company thought I was an idiot for not being more prepared. I had no way of explaining that it wasn't exactly my choice to come so ill-equipped, so yeah, that was a great start.

During these days, I was watched like a hawk by their King. It was as if Thorin was still not sure what kind of anomaly had been dropped in front of him, and I assumed he was trying to solve the mystery himself before resorting to actual questions. _Pfft, good luck with that, bub._

As I remembered it being depicted, Bree was dreary and muddy and altogether shady upon first glance. Was this how all the towns here were, or did it just seem so bad because I was used to paved roads and electricity? Don't even get me started on the mysterious smells floating around. If orcs didn't kill me, then the living conditions of medieval citizens surely would.

Some areas weren't so bad. We passed by a few colorful stalls selling pottery and cloth from 'foreign lands', wherever that meant for them here, and some shops filled with varying merchandise. There were places for hunting gear and for food, for weapons and for clothing. It was… neat, in a way. If you ignored your nose.

The strange looks we got were not my fave though. For all the staring that the giant group of Dwarves warranted, if you added a wizard, a Hobbit, and a random chick with weird clothing to that mix, I could see why the people were wary.

Eventually we stopped next to a large building (which I belatedly realized were stables) and everyone began dismounting. I followed their lead, scooting off Stormy with all the grace of a muppet, though I derived guilty pleasure from seeing Bilbo have an equally tough time. He nearly fell on his bum when he landed, gaining a few snickers from the Dwarves closest to us. I sent a half-hearted stare of exasperation to Bofur and Nori, only one of which even looked slightly apologetic.

Nori had no guilt. "He makes it so terribly easy, lass," the Dwarf chuckled, and I was glad Bilbo had moved over to Gandalf and out of earshot.

I just huffed and grabbed my backpack, knowing there was nothing for it, that they'd eventually come to love him regardless, and that the Hobbit didn't need me to be his little protector. He'd gain their respect in time, on his own. Not to mention my legs were sore from riding and I didn't want to deal with any drama.

Almost immediately as these thoughts crossed my mind, one of the ponies snorted right in Bilbo's ear while he was talking with the wizard, causing his hands to fly up in a startled flapping motion around his face.

Yep. This was the same guy destined to find the most dangerous piece of jewelry known to Middle Earth. I tried not to think on that for too long.

I was one of the last few to hand my pony over to the stable hands before everyone clustered around, waiting for Gandalf and Thorin to come back from the big building they had just disappeared into. But wait – that wasn't just a big building. It was an Inn. I looked around more and – yes! There was the sign! _The Prancing Pony._ My body gave a few giddy bounces before I caught myself and stopped, lest the others think I was a loon.

Gandalf and Thorin returned, joining the crowd again. "We have secured rooms for the night," Thorin said to the group. "This is the last town we will pass through for quite a way so if there are any provisions you still require, now is the time to get them."

There were a few mumbles amongst the Dwarves as they began breaking off in twos and threes, and I stood there rocking on my feet awkwardly, at a complete loss of where to begin. I peeked around for advice from Gandalf perhaps, only to realize he was walking away with Bilbo in tow. (Wow, awesome, five-star service. Thanks for asking if I needed help in an unfamiliar world, ya dumb wizard.) I knew Bofur would surely help though, but as I turned to search for the hatted-Dwarf, I was startled when two others hopped into my line of sight instead.

"You look like you could use some assistance, Miss Jenna," Kili stated, like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I just nodded blankly.

"Who would we be to deny a lady the help she needs," Fili joined in. "As Uncle said, we've got to keep an eye on you for your safety –" (not exactly what Thorin said, but sure) "– and for the safety of the quest."

"Nobody better for the job than us," Kili said. "So, where would you like to start?"

"Not so fast, you two."

The princely duo froze at the sound of Balin's voice, and slowly turned to face him as he approached us. He glanced at me, and then gave a stern eye to the boys, saying, "I believe your duty for the evening was already discussed, unless I'm mistaken?"

Fili and Kili visibly deflated, caught in an obvious attempt to get out of some chore. The younger groaned quietly and his brother grabbed his shoulder, pushing him along in the direction of the stables while sighing, "C'mon, Kee."

Balin and I watched them shuffle away for a moment before looking back to one another. I tweaked my eyebrows in question, glancing at the young Dwarves for emphasis.

He understood quickly enough, answering with amusement, "They've got to give the riding gear a good look, make sure there's nothing we'll be needin' before we head out in the morning."

I made an _'oh'_ in response, nodding.

"As for you," he continued, and I focused my attention back. "Thorin wants me to see to it that you're properly prepared for our journey, since ye obviously don't have the slightest clue what you're doing."

This was… depressingly accurate. My eyes darted to where I had last seen said Dwarf King, and I spotted him and Dwalin speaking with Gloín some ways away. Slightly discouraging in some respects, but at least he knew I would need help getting supplies.

"Now let me see what ye do have, and we'll start from there," Balin said, gesturing to my backpack.

I slipped the bag from my shoulders, unzipping it as he watched with polite attentiveness. Its blue and purple coloring was odd enough by itself, let alone how different the design was to anything around here. I held the backpack open in front of myself and allowed him to peer in, watching as his face managed to get more and more confused until he looked just plain worried.

"Ye don't have _anything_ of use in this, lass," he stated while still staring into the bag, puzzled. "I don't even know what half of this is, but I can tell you right now it's not likely to be what you'll need."

I took a deep breath, sighing. _Yes, thank you, Balin. I know._

The Dwarf gave me a somewhat concerned look, asking, "Had you planned on making this journey with naught but paper and a book?"

Embarrassed that I couldn't explain my situation and at how stupid it made me look, I shook my head, zipping up my backpack. I put my pack on my shoulders again, and fiddled with my sleeves, pretending like a very important string caught my attention while I waited.

However, Balin was not a dummy, and I was not stoic enough to hide anything. "Ye hadn't planned on joining this Company at all, had you?" he questioned.

I looked back to him, pulling a face. Of course not. Who _plans_ on falling into Middle Earth? Who _plans_ on going with a bunch of Dwarves on a fun-run across the country? My expression while I thought of these things was enough of an answer for him.

"Well then," he said with a certain amount of amusement, eyebrows lifting. "We'd better get started."

That's how we wound up strolling through Bree that evening, stopping in various shops for things I definitely didn't have in my "odd little bag" as Balin put it. As I knew would be necessary, my bet money was put to good use and I didn't feel so bad for having an advantage in the scenario earlier that day. I was surprised by how far my little bag of coins actually went. I acquired a bedroll (glorified sleeping bag, honestly) and a strap to secure it to my pack, a proper cloak for foul weather, and real boots to replace my dying sneakers. The only mildly lavish thing I bought was lavender soap, just because I didn't want to smell like, well… everyone else here.

After the world's most awkward purchase of spare undies, followed by a doubly awkward purchase of medieval feminine products – I didn't even know what they were at first! – I was good to go. It was a moment where I was very glad Balin was helping me instead of Fili and Kili, seeing as how I highly doubted those two would understand the travelling needs of a lady. I have no clue how I would've mimed an anatomy lesson, so really, the evening turned out much better than I expected.

At least until things rapidly went downhill.

The sky was a zesty orange shade of dusk by the time we were finished, though Balin had to make one last stop at a stall selling belts of varying sizes. As he spoke with the salesperson about a particular item, I looked around at the stores closing up for the evening, and the other vendors along the road doing the same.

Setting my heavy backpack and bedroll down beside Balin for a moment, I found myself wandering over to a shop window several feet away from him – which was the first mistake I made.

The shop held interesting garments, and even though I really liked their designs, I didn't plan on buying any frilly shit just to have it ruined on this trip. Dressing fancy would probably earn points with Elves, but not likely Dwarves. It would have been a dumb, wasted purchase, so I gave up on the browsing.

My second mistake was backing up from the window and running into someone.

Not just anyone though, oh no. Like, of _all_ the people in this fairytale world to bump into.

The person let out an "oof" when my back collided with their side, and I quickly turned around to apologize… until I looked up and saw a familiar squinty-eyed, blonde man. My face fell when he recognized me, terror shooting down my spine.

"You!" he snarled.

Yep. If that bruising and swelling was anything to go by, I had definitely broken his nose.

* * *

 ** _And now... let the audience hang for a while. :')_**

 ** _Haha I try not to do too many cliffhangers, but I have a weakness for them, so no promises. XD_**

 ** _Thank you for reading once again! Leave a review if you feel so inclined, because I love them to bits._**

 ** _Til next time!_**


	9. The Men

_**Ahh, I had a nice intro, but FF logged me off and didn't save any of it, so...**_

 _ **Enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Nine**

* * *

"You!" Gavin snarled upon realizing just exactly who he bumped into.

I stumbled backwards away from him and tripped over my own feet, shoulders hitting the shop window a little too roughly. I hadn't seen many broken noses in my life, but I could recognize one, and I could tell that this guy was pissed at me for bestowing such a gift. My eyes widened when I noticed Jean right beside him, who only caught on to the situation when he spotted me as well. His face was equally displeased.

The two companions were between me and the belt stand where Balin was, so getting to the Dwarf was out of the question. Balin had looked over upon hearing the commotion, but I didn't have time to signal for help before Gavin lunged, forcing me to jump to the side and break into a sprint when they pursued.

God, I was already running for my life. _Again_.

My immediate thought was to circle around back to Balin, but every route I spotted was blocked or a dead end. Stopping too long to look for a way back had the Men on my heels in no time, and I was left with no choice but to continue running. My heart hammered in my ears as I twisted my way between groups of disgruntled people, around wagons, and through the dirt streets, using my short stature to my advantage. Hell, it was my _only_ advantage.

These jerks were gaining on me, and I quickly tried to remember which way it was to the Prancing Pony instead while my mind was in a blind panic. This was an awful plan, I'm sorry to say. My legs were still so sore from riding, but I could hear the pace of their heavy footsteps, Gavin yelling something about his nose and Jean telling him to shut his trap.

It felt like forever before I found the inn, relief consuming me when I finally spotted a cluster of familiar Dwarves in front of the building. I simultaneously cursed and thanked the Valar. Thorin already knew I was going to be trouble and he called it back at Bag End, so kudos for him. This whole dreadful scenario only managed to prove him right as I bee-bopped towards them, causing a ruckus when the douche bags following me ran into people.

Thorin, Dwalin, and Gloín, along with Bofur and Bifur, looked up in surprise as I darted over to them, fear obvious on my face. When Bofur realized I was being chased, bless his soul, he pulled me behind himself and his cousin. Just in time too, as Gavin and Jean almost literally skidded to a halt in front of the group.

"Are ye alright, Miss Hollander?" Bofur asked over his shoulder quickly. Pretty much gasping for breath at this point, I nodded with a grimace, shifting my attention back to the tall duo.

" _Dwarves?_ " Gavin said incredulously. "Is this some kind of _joke?_ "

Oh no.

Aforementioned Dwarves bristled, and Jean elbowed his partner, showing he had at least some kind of brain. It didn't escape my notice that his left hand was bandaged where I had chomped down on it before. "Be quiet, you dolt," Jean muttered in annoyance.

Thorin momentarily glanced at my trembling form shielded by the others and, as if he had made some kind of decision, stepped to the front of our assembly.

"What's your purpose in harassing this young woman?" the King asked, agitated.

Gavin opened his mouth, but Jean answered quicker, saying, "This _young woman_ is a thief and has stolen from us."

 _What a jackass!_ I thought, enraged by this absolute pack of lies. When the Dwarves looked at me with question – wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, you guys – I shook my head furiously. _'Liar!'_ I mouthed, glaring at Jean.

Both men appeared more confused by my lack of sound rather than my denial of theft. It was only after the fact that I realized it would have been smarter not to let them know about that, and hoped it wouldn't bite me in the ass later. Even if Gavin didn't seem exactly perturbed by the revelation, Jean was too observant.

"And what, might I ask, has she stolen from you?" Thorin inquired, obviously not falling for their bullshit.

Jean hesitated just the tiniest amount, sidetracked by my muteness, but it was enough for his deception to fall through. "Our… Our coin. She stole our money."

There was a loaded pause before Thorin shook his head with a sigh, saying with a hint of smugness as he stared them down, "As I thought. If your reason for pursuit were admirable, you would not have felt the need to lie to us."

Gavin jerked abruptly, balling one fist and jabbing his other hand my direction. "That devil broke my damn nose is what she did! Bit my brother like some kind of rabid animal the other day!" he blurted, annoyed that their crappy plan had been thwarted.

"I'd bet there was a reason she did all that as well," Bofur concluded, in a surprisingly severe tone.

With a humorless chuckle, Dwalin eyeballed their injuries and said, "Looks to me like the only thing the lass stole was your dignity."

"As though you Dwarves can speak of _dignity_ ," Jean spat at them suddenly.

Oh shi –

"And what exactly is that supposed ta mean?!" asked Gloín in outrage. Bifur joined in and made hand motions that looked vaguely threatening, but I wasn't sure.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, nitwit!" Gavin stated.

Jean maintained a sneer, adding, "Your kind all the same – greedy, foolish, and arrogant."

"How dare you insult my people? We are more honorable than you could ever hope to be in your entire miserable life," Thorin growled, looking ready to tear this guy's head off.

"You truly believe yourselves to be honorable?" Jean asked with skepticism, like he was genuinely confused. He barked a harsh laugh. "I wasn't aware that honor involved being an eyesore to the world. Does it also involve delusions of grandeur? Because Dwarves have no place here. Go back to your little tunnels and mind your own business."

"You made it my _business_ when you came after a member of my Company," Thorin said, rage being stirred up by these morons. I paused at his words. Was I an official member then?

Jean looked over to me and I resisted the urge to duck further behind Bofur, glaring at him as he scoffed, "This sorry excuse of a woman? The honor you claim to have must be poor indeed. Resorting to little whores of another race because your own women would rather be with a real –"

Bifur suddenly stomped forward with a holler in Khuzdul, causing Jean to take a fast step back, shutting up. The Dwarf was barely caught in time by Bofur before he could waylay the man, while I gaped in shock. What the hell was _wrong_ with these guys? Was everyone here this prejudiced against Dwarves or did I just manage to acquaint myself with the two biggest pricks in all of Middle Earth?

"C'mon now, they aren't worth it, Bifur!" insisted Bofur while grappling to keep his cousin's arm in one place, though I could hear his own suppressed ire. "These two don't know what they're talkin' about!"

"Control your dog," Gavin teased. I suddenly wanted Smaug to drop from the sky and eat this dude.

"I've had enough of your mouth, ye pretentious rats," Dwalin said with venom, apparently feeling the same way as he took a step forward with his fists prepared, knuckle dusters and all. Gloín was more than gearing up as well, but before an actual brawl could start, there was a welcome interruption.

"What in Arda's name is going on here?" we heard Gandalf ask as he approached the two groups, followed by Balin and Bilbo. Bifur finally ceased in his attempts to club Jean, looking over as the rest of us did.

Balin held up my forgotten backpack and bedroll, looked to me and said, "That's what I'd like to know." Oops.

"These pitiful Men were just leaving," Thorin announced resolutely at the same time that Jean said, "We were having a nice chat." I don't know where he learned meaning of 'nice', but…

Thorin and Jean glared at each other for an ungodly amount of time before Jean took a step back, tipping his head in mock defeat. I mean, Thorin _was_ the unrivaled champion when it came to glaring, and our buddy that was obviously a wizard had come marching over, so it was no wonder the man gave up.

"Until next time, Master Dwarf," Jean said, faking civility. His dark eyes turned sharply to me and he gave a smile that belonged on Dateline. "Miss Hollander."

Oh. So he heard Bofur say my name. Fantastic.

Jean dragged Gavin away – who was still making foul comments like a sore loser – and when they were finally, _finally_ out of sight, the group relaxed a significant amount.

Well, most of us, anyway.

Thorin rounded on me immediately, causing Bofur and Bifur to step down from their shielding positions respectfully. "What was that?" he demanded, blue eyes locked onto my green ones.

I winced internally. And externally. Oh my God, he was the opposite of happy.

Bree was in a dusky twilight by that point, with lanterns here and there, the sun having dipped over the horizon at last. In the dimness, I could still easily tell how absolutely pissed the Dwarf King was with my surprise guests. His frown would've been visible from outer space, time of day irrelevant. We were the same height, and yet I felt smaller than ever.

Unsure of how to explain, I floundered for a moment with my hands out, and then I carefully patted my wound and gestured towards where the terrible two were last seen. Thorin watched my movements and glanced to where I pointed, before giving a slight nod, still looking utterly peeved but also contemplative.

Bofur broke the silence first. "Ohhh, so those two – they did that to your arm, lass?"

I nodded with a scowl.

"And they – That's not why ye were in the river, was it?" he continued. I gave my answer yes, and proceeded to use my arms in a mimicry of running, ending with a tiny lift of my torso to signify my jump and a wiggle of my hands to represent water. Of course, Bofur looked appalled.

"You should've broken _both_ of their noses, not just one," Gloín added fiercely, surprising me. There were vague sounds of concurrence from the group. "Treatin' a woman thus. Disgusting."

"All things considered, I believe it could have turned out much worse," Gandalf spoke up. He sent me an encouraging smile, which I tried to return, grateful. "Miss Hollander managed just fine. No harm done, in the end."

"She should have stayed with Balin regardless," Thorin said in disagreement. Though he was no longer seething, he was still clearly angered by my unnecessary production, and my already weak smile died.

I glanced between Thorin and Balin as a pleading look made its way to my face. My mouth opened and my hands came up to explain of their own accord, but I ceased the movements when only silence came out. My face scrunched in frustration up as I stared at the King, my arms falling to my sides. Oh, why the hell couldn't I have my voice back?

Moving from his spot next to the wizard, Balin stepped toward me. "I'm glad to see you're alright, Miss Hollander, but don't go givin' me a scare like that again," the old Dwarf said, stern but kind, handing me my bedroll and backpack. I could only smile with sheepish guilt, relieved when his expression became softer in acceptance of my silent apology.

Balin turned then, saying, "She had no choice but to run, Thorin. I saw what happened. The Men had her cut off from me, and the next best thing was to find one of you. Which she did."

Thorin's face had still not relaxed when he glanced back to where I was. That perpetually judging look was focused on me for too long, and I hugged my bedroll closer to my chest, subconsciously putting a shield between us. I had done screwed up in his eyes, even if I wasn't actually at fault.

He exhaled heavily, not saying a word to me. Instead, he announced to those who had just arrived, "Supper is waiting." Then he turned away and entered the Prancing Pony.

My head lolled backwards momentarily as I sighed. _This is it. This is how the quest is gonna be._

Our small crowd filed into the building after the King one by one, Bifur and Bofur still hovering nearby me protectively, and I spotted Bilbo joining as well. He greeted me as we stepped into the Inn together.

"I'm glad the spat with those Men was resolved before things turned unpleasant," he said, subtly trying to shift the mood, and my lip curled a bit.

Bofur let out one sarcastic laugh at that. "Hah! Unpleasant? That wasn't exactly what I would call hospitable conversation back there."

The Hobbit pulled a face, correcting himself and saying, "Well… _More_ unpleasant. Before there were fists involved, I suppose I should say."

It was smoky and loud inside the Prancing Pony, a handful of customers taking up tables as they guffawed with their drinking buddies. All in all I thought it would be much busier. The light of a fireplace, coupled with lanterns here and there, made for a cozy feeling despite the shady looking characters skulking in a few corners.

Speaking of odd characters, we spotted the rest of our companions sitting at a table on the far side of the room, adding to the noise as they ate dinner and laughed at each other's tales. Oh sweet biscuits. I'd forgotten during the drama how long it had been since I'd eaten, but was definitely reminded at the sight of food.

As we joined our table, the remaining seats were quickly taken up and I was unsure of what to do with my stuff, so I ended up just hanging my backpack on the chair next to Bilbo, shoving the bedroll in the new straps. I made to sit, but before I could even pull my chair out, I sensed someone come up beside me. Curious as to whom it could possibly be, I turned and met the blue stare of one Thorin Oakenshield.

Oh, so _now_ he had words for me?

In a low tone that barred no argument, he said, "You are to speak with me after dinner."

I squinted on accident at the word 'speak', my face questioning. Thorin realized what he said and was instantly annoyed by his own word choice, but mostly at me for pointing it out.

"There are still questions that need to be answered, one way or another, Miss Hollander," Thorin rumbled with finality, boot steps heavy as he walked away. He chose a spot on the farthest side of the table from me as he possibly could and didn't look back over to me once.

 _Well this is going great so far,_ I thought bitterly, regretting my choice in tattoos.

With a sigh, I seated myself between Bilbo and Ori, focusing in on the conversation around the table as we ate. The food was simple and I was perfectly fine with that, completely ignoring the alcohol in favor of water.

"So what kept you all?" Kili piped up. "I thought we were going to have to finish this meal off without you!"

"Not that I would have minded!" Nori laughed, causing others to chuckle in agreement.

Dwalin was the one who answered Kili's question first, after a large swig of ale. "Ach, just a couple of ninny's who thought they could pick a fight with us."

"They dared to speak ill of our kind, right in front of our faces!" Gloín said between bites.

"Aye! As if that wasn't enough, they were the same ones who cut up Miss Hollander's arm the other day," Bofur put in. I shrank down at the sudden attention, nibbling on some bread.

"What?" Fili asked, looking at me, then back to Bofur.

"Did you teach them a lesson then? For insulting us and injuring a lady?" Kili questioned with a weird combination of concern and excitement at the prospect of hearing about a fight.

"Nay. We didn't even know 'til afterwards they were the culprits," Bofur said, then turned to me with a laugh. "Miss Hollander had apparently left her own goodbye present though!"

"Fella's nose was purple and blue. Broken plain as anything," Dwalin said, seeming the slightest bit astounded that I'd managed even that. "Though I would 'ave liked to break some other things as well, the way they spoke."

I kind of wished I could clobber Jean's nose too, but frankly, I was blessed with what little luck I had through both encounters. I mean, the first time, I reacted out of desperation and wound up almost drowning because of it. The second time was just me hiding in terror behind the Dwarves. Unless the Company was merely surprised because I looked like I couldn't even claw my way out of a wet paper bag, in which case… Yeah, okay. I could see it.

Bilbo turned to me with slight bafflement at my violence, and quietly asked, "Did you _really_ break a man's nose?"

I felt warm from embarrassment, shrugging with a guilty smile. On the other side of me, Ori was almost making the same face as the Hobbit. Did I _really_ look like that much of a pansy?

Eventually the subject shifted to tales of other broken noses, to a story of Dwalin breaking some guy's arm in a skirmish, and ending on which supplies they had acquired that day, checking to be sure they were all on the same page. During their discussion, I tried to keep up with all the details just in case I had to know what we had and didn't have, but was lost halfway through. There were certainly different requirements than camping back home, not that I had done much of that anyway.

This world ran so differently. I hadn't even thought about what would happen to me if I couldn't go home at the end of all this. Had Yavanna even mentioned it?

 _"…I have no doubt that you will thrive, however, and do what is needed of you."_

I tried to remember all of her words, sifting through to find anything about it, and came up short. How long would it take my mom to figure out I wasn't in town anymore? Would Hazel be worried eventually, despite the fact that we didn't text but once or twice a month? Or was this a Narnia deal where I would live out my whole life in this world, only to wake up beside the road as a 21-year-old again?

It worried me that I wasn't more concerned.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy chairs scooting across the floor as the Dwarves ended their conversation, standing up from the table to disperse. (So much for paying attention, Jenna.) I abruptly remembered what I was supposed to do after dinner and cringed internally, glancing around for Thorin.

It didn't take long to spot him. Thorin stopped Ori, who was following his brothers to the stairs, and said something I couldn't hear. The young Dwarf looked anxious but suddenly made an 'oh!' sound, replying as he nodded vigorously and reached into his satchel. Ori pulled out several sheets of parchment, an inkpot, and a quill…

Ah.

Thorin was going to see if I could write, wasn't he?

My question was answered moments later, after the King thanked Ori and the younger Dwarf continued on his way. I warily shouldered my backpack and hugged my bedroll to my chest, padding over to Thorin, him giving me a brief look.

He simply said, "Come with me," and made his way to the stairs, writing supplies in hand. I followed up the steps and down the hall obediently, trying not to rile him up more than I'd already managed. I knew he wasn't going to like what was about to happen with my writing, so no sense in pissing him off ahead of time.

A few of the Dwarves were talking in the hall while others were getting ready to retire for the evening, shuffling about and picking rooms. I assumed we would be waking up at the ass-crack of dawn again, so that wasn't all that surprising, and I suddenly hoped whoever I was bunking with didn't snore.

Thorin opened one of the doors, waiting for me to drag my nervous feet through the entry before following as well. The room was nice for its time, I supposed. It had two beds, a simple wash basin with a partition folded up next to it, and a chair beside a small table. (I mean, it wasn't exactly a Holiday Inn, but what did I expect?)

Other than furnishings, I did notice a bulky, sheathed sword leaning against the wall, propped by the closest bed's headboard, along with a very distinctive axe. It took me about two seconds to recognize them as Thorin's. I guessed this was his room for the evening, probably sharing with Dwalin or someone.

I was quite surprised to see Gandalf sitting on one of the beds, as well. He greeted me with a smile and a nod, and I did the same as I set my stuff off to the side. That was when Thorin closed the door for privacy – or whatever he thought that was going to accomplish. I had no doubt his nephews would find their curious heads pressed against the wall in a moment. Probably several others too, after I thought about it.

Thorin began, "I'm perfectly aware you cannot speak, which is…"

The Dwarf caught me not paying attention to him, staring at the wall while this ran across my mind, and he trailed off in irritation. That was, until we all heard a small shuffle on the other side of the door and my eyes flicked over to meet his. I smiled awkwardly and Gandalf chuckled, whereas Thorin just looked 120% done.

The Dwarf King turned back to the door, opening it one swift movement, causing Fili and Kili to nearly face-plant into the room. The caught themselves just in time.

"Uhm, we just wanted to bid you goodnight," Fili said, thinking quickly.

"Yes! Goodnight, Uncle!" Kili agreed with wide eyes that betrayed everything. He peered past Thorin and into the room, adding, "You two as well, Mister Gandalf, Miss Jenna!"

I gave them a tiny wave before they scuttled out of sight – followed by the obvious sounds of additional feet and shushed warnings as other eavesdroppers fled too. Thorin closed the door again with agitation.

"As you were saying…?" the wizard sitting a few feet away prompted, still smiling softly.

Less amused, Thorin continued. "As I was saying…" he directed towards Gandalf, prior to setting the parchment, quill, and ink down on the little table, then focusing on me. "Bearing in mind you cannot speak, I have brought these. Balin mentioned seeing a book and journal in your bag before, so I assume you know how to read and write. Of course, the wizard claims it will be ineffective, but I wish to see that for myself."

 _Thanks a lot, Balin_ , I thought with indignation, even though I wasn't really upset at the old Dwarf for the lack of confidentiality. He was just doing what anyone would do in this scenario. I couldn't blame him for being loyal and telling his king of a possible way to communicate with the crazy chick from another world, because let's be honest, it was logical.

I looked to Gandalf for a second, searching for reassurance and simultaneously wondering how he knew my writing wouldn't work.

"He won't listen to me, so you may as well show him, my dear," he said in response.

Grimacing at the paper, I took a seat in the chair next to the table, trying to ignore the way Thorin hovered behind me like a teacher with an overly troublesome student. The quill and ink pot were a foreign thing to work with, but my penmanship hardly mattered when I put it to the parchment and nothing showed up.

I demonstrated a few times what I had learned at Bag End; a small number of scribbles to confirm that I was actually putting ink on the quill, and writing to prove that it was futile. (Though if it had shown up, the words would have read, "This isn't going to work. See? Told you. NOT. WORKING. KTHNXBYE," and I'm not sure how well he'd have taken that.)

Gandalf joined us by the table sometime during this, watching me create absolutely zero words. "Fascinating, wouldn't you agree?" he commented, borderline cheeky.

When no reply came, I dared to peek up at Thorin. His face was unreadable as he studied the paper before me, one hand poised at his chin, while the other supported that elbow. I knew he saw the quill make contact with the paper. It wasn't a matter of me deceiving him, but of him believing what happened.

"You say this is the Valar's doing?" Thorin asked, eyes not leaving the parchment.

"Indeed," answered Gandalf in his light manner.

I looked back and forth between the two as they stood on either side of my chair, mild unease flaring at the lack of space.

"If they are the reason she cannot write… Are they responsible for her inability to speak as well?" questioned Thorin. He was sharp as a tack, that much was certain.

Gandalf remained quiet this time, allowing me to answer on my own. I nodded to Thorin, and really, I felt bad for the guy. Every question he asked just resulted in more questions, and that _had_ to be annoying.

"To what end?" the Dwarf King inquired, turning to take a few slow steps away before facing us again. I rotated in my seat to watch him, grateful for the distance. " _If_ Miss Hollander is truly from another world, why send her to aid in our quest? What would this achieve that we could not do for ourselves?"

"Any number of things, really," Gandalf replied nonchalantly. "Every person has their own unique way of contributing to their world, and perhaps they felt Miss Hollander has something specific to offer Middle Earth." Much safer answer than I could've come up with.

Thorin's intense gaze rested on me once more. (Always intense, there was no lower setting.) "Even so… Why silence her? What purpose does this serve? It is… _too_ convenient, in my eyes."

I was quite offended by this insinuation, and I no longer felt bad about his confusion. Convenient? Convenient for _who_ exactly? It certainly wasn't me. My peeved thoughts must have shown, despite trying to maintain some kind of poker face during this mess of a conversation.

"Well?" Thorin challenged, actually addressing me. "You were supposedly chosen for this quest, yet cannot say why. On your shoulder lies a map that has no business being there and you cannot explain how this came to be."

Gandalf wasn't the least bit worried. "I do not believe Miss Hollander has ill intentions towards yourself or this quest. Do you, my dear?" he asked me.

I craned my neck to frown at him, perplexed at such a stupid question. _Of course not? If I did, I certainly wouldn't admit to it while sitting five feet from Thorin Oakenshield himself._

"There. See? Absolutely nothing to fret about," the wizard said.

Thorin stared at Gandalf with much the same face I had, stating, "None of my questions have yet to be answered."

Half a second later, I was suppressing a yawn with my hand – God, what time did we have to leave in the morning? – which earned a sharp look from the Dwarf King. Catching this, I set my hand back in my lap, fiddling with the drawstrings of my sweatpants as I hunkered down again. Ugh, could I not just yawn without it being an insult or was that simply how he interpreted the world?

" _Patience_ is likely the only thing that will grant you answers in this circumstance, Thorin," Gandalf interceded with a hint of irritation. "Something which you are in sore need of."

Thorin eyed the wizard, and then looked over to my uneasy posture. I nibbled on the inside of my lip, waiting.

A tense moment passed before Thorin finally relented, tilting his chin in a sort of half nod while shifting his gaze to some unseen speck on the wall. Whether he was agreeing that he needed patience or just agreeing to pause the questions, I'm not sure, but I was thankful either way. It had been one long-ass day, my legs were sore from riding and running, and I was not a morning person. Not to mention we would be stuck on the road together for several months, which meant there would be plenty of time to ask questions, and the Dwarf knew that just as much as I did. Fan-flipping-tastic.

"We've an early start tomorrow and it is late," Thorin allowed. He didn't seem quite so cross, at least.

Gandalf made a sound of agreement, gathering up his staff. "Quite right," he said. As he began heading for the door, I grabbed my backpack and made to follow. Upon realizing this, he gave a chuckle and turned to me, saying, "Oh dear, no. My apologies for any misunderstanding, but you'll be staying here, as my room only has one bed, and the others have already made their decisions. Goodnight, Miss Hollander."

Then the wizard left, shutting the door behind him.

I blinked at it for an excessive amount of time.

 _Mithrandir say what now?_

* * *

 ** _;D_**

 ** _I'm such a tease._**

 ** _I always enjoy hearing your thoughts - Was this chapter what you expected? What did you enjoy most? What did you like least? Thoughts on Jean and Gavin? I want to hear from you guys!_**

 ** _Thank you once more, and as per usual... Until next time! :D_**


	10. The Indecency

_**Ho boy. Got a fun new chapter for you guys. c:**_

 _ **Also, important announcement at the end, but it can wait.**_

 _ **Onward!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Ten**

* * *

The Prancing Pony was fairly quiet that night – I mean, if you ignored the neighboring rooms full of snoring Dwarves. The darkness was broken by moonlight through a scuffed window, which I was glad for. Laying on my side, facing away from the other room's occupant, I counted the specks on the dirty panes in a sad attempt to lull myself to sleep. I was absolutely exhausted, and yet.

I suddenly regretted reading all those smut fics that featured Thorin and wood that was _not_ his Oakenshield.

 _Just… count the specks, Jenna. Count. For the love of all that is Tolkien, empty your mind, go to sleep,_ I told myself over and over. It was like having a sexual dream about a coworker and then having to see them the next day, while acting like your mind hadn't conjured images of their nether regions. That is to say... it was awkward.

It had been easy during the day not to think on it, while I was surrounded by activity and other people. Lying awake with only my guilt was a bit different, especially when the source of said guilt was annoyed that I wasn't snoozing yet. After the first fifteen minutes of window-staring, he promptly told me to go to sleep. I forgot how observant this ray of sunshine was, but I guessed that was sort of required to survive around here, particularly for someone like him.

Nearly an hour had gone by when Thorin cleared his throat with obvious meaning, causing me to huff and flop over onto my stomach, shoving my face into the pillow. Didn't this guy ever sleep?! Wasn't he the one who said we had to leave early? Why wasn't _he_ concerned about getting some rest? Holy ravioli, his paranoia knew no bounds.

I thought back to when Gandalf left the room, after I stared at the door in apprehension so long that it was probably considered rude. When I faced Thorin again, he'd told me exactly the last thing I wanted to hear.

"We have been on the road not even a week, and already you've managed to bring about trouble. If you believed I would let you out of my sight after this evening, then you are poorly mistaken, Miss Hollander."

So yeah, there was that now.

On one hand, I thought he was placing an unreasonable amount of suspicion on me. On the other hand, however, I tried to observe it from his perspective.

Thorin didn't know me. I was a stranger to him. He didn't know why his family's map was on my shoulder. He was informed by a wizard that I was from another world, picked out by celestial beings to go with him to help reclaim his homeland. I couldn't fight. I wasn't strong. I had no survival skills or magic powers. Better still, I had no voice. It was like the Valar just handed him a potato and said, "Here you go, this is your divine intervention."

God, no wonder he was annoyed.

As silently as possible, I peered over at Thorin from my smothered position on the pillow after a few minutes passed. His big fur lined coat had long been taken off, draped over the back of the little chair I vacated earlier, and he was sitting at the head of his bed. With his back leaning against the wall, he had his leg propped up and an arm resting on that knee. The way he was staring at the door, I thought it might catch on fire. He looked simultaneously frustrated and a bit… what was that? Contemplative? Worried?

Thorin slowly closed his eyes in a scowl and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his angular nose. For a moment, I thought he'd caught me still awake and was about to tell me to go to sleep again, but no such thing happened. I realized he was just stressed as hell, and suddenly felt bad for keeping him up with my own ridiculous guilt. _People read smut. It's what they do. Get over it and be an adult, or prepare for the most awkward road trip ever,_ I scolded myself.

Thorin was suspicious of me, though he was also just a generally cautious person too. He didn't want anything jeopardizing the quest, and already I had nearly caused a brawl in the street. (Technically all I did was hide behind the Dwarves, but still.) I was sure that all he saw in me was a bundle of trouble and questions, but if I was going to change anything at the end of this, I needed to show him that I could be trusted.

For some insane reason – out of _all_ the Hobbit fans on Earth – I was the one picked to come here. Yavanna made it pretty clear what I was meant to do, and dammit, I was going to help Thorin and his nephews no matter what it took.

Starting by going to sleep so this Dwarf could take a chill pill.

* * *

As per my luck, I was going to have an awkward road trip regardless of what I did or didn't read.

I was woken by a heavy _'THUD'_ , dragging me from whatever weird dreams I was having. With a frown, I blearily pulled my face out of the pillow and looked about for the source, but realized it came from another room when muffled laughter followed. Sounded like someone fell or something, and I knew it must have been time to get up already.

Still mostly asleep, I noticed Thorin was no longer in the room with me and neither were his weapons or his coat, though the ink and papers were still on the table. I didn't think anything of it as I got out of bed and reached for my bra which, yes, I had discreetly taken off the night before. Being indoors after two days of camping and sleeping with it on, and knowing there was only more to come? Of course I was taking advantage of one night of comfort. Like hell if I was sleeping in that thing just because a male was around, and I had blankets, so it hardly mattered.

Like I've mentioned, I was not a morning person. That was mostly since A.) I enjoyed my sleep, as normal people tend to and B.) my brain did not fully work until at least 10:00. The sky outside the window was still grey, barely showing any sunlight yet, so I was a bit of a zombie.

This being said, I only take half the blame for what happened.

My borderline unconscious mind thought there was no point in dragging out the weird partition thing, because it was only going to take two seconds to put my bra back on. So, I tiredly slipped off my shirt and laid it on the bed for a _single_ moment, preparing to put the undergarment on, when the door opened.

I immediately crossed my arms over my chest and froze in place, suddenly very much awake. There was, of course, no way for me to give a warning of my indecency without a voice.

Thorin wasn't even looking my way when he came in. He was walking towards the table to get the writing utensils, evidently under the impression I was still asleep, while saying, "Miss Hollander, if you wish for any sort of breakfast, I suggest you get – "

He only made it three steps into the room before coming to an abrupt halt, noticing that I was not, in fact, asleep anymore.

Warrior and King he may have been, but he was still a guy, and I had never been so glad to have a distracting tattoo covering my arm. It was largely distracting for him in particular, which was even better. The map pulled Thorin's attention away from the obvious, giving him just enough time to recover himself and quickly avert his eyes to the floor. Meanwhile, my face burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

"Breakfast has already begun and we will be leaving Bree directly after," he restated in sudden exasperation (like _I_ was the one who walked in on _him_ ), already turning to exit. Still keeping his gaze pointed downward, he tacked on a last minute, "My apologies," and made his leave, swiftly closing the door behind him.

Honestly, the whole thing took less than 30 seconds.

My mouth was still slightly ajar, and I stared down at my shirt lying on the bed. It mocked me.

It had only been four days. Four days into a seven month long trip and already…

I shoved my face into my hands.

 _Oh sweet baby Jesus._

At this rate, getting eaten by a Warg was starting to look like a pretty attractive option.

I eventually found out the thud had been Bombur falling out of bed at the mention of breakfast. Bofur cracked up while telling us all about it over our quick meal in the dining area, using the same table we had the night prior. I was still trying to process my embarrassment, so it really didn't help when Bofur pointed out that my face was the shade of a tomato and began asking why. My answer was just to shake my head wildly, staring at my food, and get him to stop the questions before the others overheard and became curious too. He caught on – thank all that is holy – and instead went for the angle of taking my mind off of whatever it was.

By the time we were out the door and I fastened my gear onto Stormy, my mood had lifted significantly. The combination of Bofur's antics and having an adorable pony to greet me – not to mention my sturdy new boots, along with a full tummy – was enough to put me back on track. The sun was barely peeking up, so this was a great turn of disposition for me, considering.

I was scratching at Stormy's ears while waiting for the Company to finish their last minute things, casually surveying who was doing what. It was also partially to keep a lookout for Thorin, who I decided I would just… avoid for the remainder of the quest. Or, y'know, for the rest of my life. Not the most realistic expectation, but my denial was comforting at the time.

I finally noticed Thorin speaking to Fili and Kili about something, their faces serious. I normally just would've thought yeah, okay, so they're talking, and moved on… but then Kili nodded at something and glanced my way out of the corner of his eye. Obviously he didn't count on me already having them in my sight, and quickly shifted his attention back to Thorin in a way that said, 'oops, shouldn't have done that'. What the frickle…?

"Good morning, Miss Hollander," said a familiar voice, breaking my concentration on the royals.

I turned to greet Bilbo when he walked over to me with his pony. I gave a smile and continued my previous petting of Stormy, while he gingerly patted his own jittery steed. Despite having spent half a week with them, the Hobbit was clearly still unsure of the animals and I snorted at his hesitation without meaning to.

"What's so funny?" Bilbo asked, seeming almost offended.

I just shook my head and rolled my eyes before holding out my hand for his pony to smell. She gave a few whiffs before snorting harshly, probably upset that I didn't have a treat for her, but allowed me to pet her nose a decent amount before moving her head away with a bob. Bilbo watched this for a moment, stroking her neck.

I lifted my eyebrows at Bilbo with a tilt of my head, as if to ask, _'Okay?'_

He nodded back to whatever message he saw in my face, saying, "Hobbits hardly ever use ponies for riding – mostly just for pulling carts and such. Even then, it's typically a mule and not a pony. We prefer to keep our feet safe on the ground, so my experience with them is very limited, you understand."

Nodding, I formed an _'oh'_ with my mouth. I supposed this made sense. Honestly, I would probably be the same way if I hadn't been that kid who overstayed her welcome in petting zoos and watched animal documentaries nonstop.

"This is likely to be the longest consecutive amount of time I'll have ever spent with one," Bilbo said, staring at his pony with a thoughtful gaze. There was a pause, and then he added, "I've decided to call her Myrtle. It suits her, I think. Did you name yours as well?"

I nodded, mouthing, _'Stormy.'_

He just kind of looked at me for a second, utterly confused, asking for clarification, "Stroppy? Er… no, then? Normy?"

A sigh escaped me as my head shook a bit and I looked away, massaging my temple. He picked up on the obvious _'nevermind'_ , thank goodness, and gave me an apologetic smile. This muteness was getting real old, real fast.

Hardly a moment went by before I realized the others were hopping onto their ponies, preparing to leave, and I quickly did the same. Bilbo once again mounted with all the finesse of a wounded turtle, but he really was getting better, so I gave him a thumbs up, receiving a look of skepticism in return.

"Sooner or later I will have that down," he murmured, readjusting on the saddle.

I snickered and trotted up beside him as we set off, leaving behind the Prancing Pony. The Hobbit and I were near the back of the party, and I briefly wondered why Thorin hadn't made me ride closer to the front, what with the "not letting me out of his sight" thing. After this morning though, it was very possible he decided to chuck that plan out the window. This was fine by me, quite frankly.

While I thought on this, my peripheral caught an odd movement from Bilbo. I glanced over to see an incredible frown on his face as he leaned forward to look around me, squinting at something far away. When I turned to investigate the street, whatever it was must have vanished, because all I saw were people milling about the shops and stalls. I looked back to the Hobbit with a clear question.

Bilbo flicked his eyes to me, then back to the spot, before dragging them to me again slowly. "It's nothing, Miss Hollander. That is… I don't believe it was anything to worry about," he said.

I was unconvinced, and let it show.

His attention was fully on me by that point, and his brows had gradually let up a bit when he answered, "I'm sorry. I just thought I saw – well, it's early, and I only caught a glimpse, but it appeared to be one of the fellows from last night, beside that vegetable cart."

 _Fellows from last…?_

Shit. Upon understanding who he meant, I whipped my head back to scan the area again. They hadn't been there a moment ago when I checked, so I don't know why I thought they might have been the second time. The idea of those creeps watching us for any reason whatsoever just made my skin crawl, but I didn't see any sign of Jean or Gavin.

"I do believe it was nothing, Miss Hollander. I wouldn't fret over it – as I was saying, it _is_ early and my eyes aren't quite functioning as they should be yet," Bilbo tried to reassure me, realizing the distress he'd caused, though he clearly didn't believe his own words. "It was likely just my imagination playing tricks."

I just eyed him critically for a few seconds as we left the gates of Bree, knowing full-well that this dude had great eyesight. _Yeah sure, okay. You didn't see anything and my name is Peter Jackson._

"What seems to be the matter up here?" a sudden voice to my left asked. I was startled to see Fili riding right next to me, having joined us while I was distracted by my worry. Where did he even come from?

"Yes, what happened?" Kili asked me, coming up beside Bilbo. "You looked a bit spooked."

I turned to the Hobbit for him to answer, and he took a breath before saying, "As I already assured Miss Hollander, I don't think it's anything to fuss over. I simply saw – well, _thought_ I saw – one of those Men from last night, just now. The ones they told you about over dinner."

Bilbo's tone shifted slightly when he glanced my way, as if checking to see that I was buying it.

"It was definitely _not_ either one of them though. Hair was all wrong," he finished. "Nope. It was just my imagination."

"Even if it weren't your imagination, she has nothing to be afraid of with us around," Fili declared when my doubtful expression hadn't let up. "We were taught by the best."

Kili said as well, "There's no chance of anyone getting past us, so you're perfectly safe."

It was meant to be comforting and for the most part it worked, but all I could think was, _Yes, absolutely nobody is getting past your guard. Especially not, oh I don't know, a giant troll carrying some ponies?_

Since it hadn't exactly happened yet though, this wasn't very fair to them. I wound up forcing myself to take a deep breath, visibly relaxing my body so they wouldn't get a complex, and at the same time showing that I trusted them. If I gave trust, hopefully I would get trust in return.

"See? She can tell that we know what we're doing," Kili commented to his brother. I fought back an eye roll, and wound up blinking a few times to cover it.

"It's just a precaution," Fili said carefully, looking to me. "We thought maybe you would feel more comfortable with us around, especially after the ordeal last night. While on the road, at least?"

Kili said with pride, "We'll be like your own personal guard. And we make excellent conversation, if I do say so myself."

The whole thing was weirding me out, honestly, so I just nodded slowly in my confusion.

Bilbo then joked, "I don't suppose that offer extends to me as well?"

There was a long pause. Apparently Kili did not pick up on the joking part, and whisper-yelled over to Fili, "Did… did he say anything about Mister Boggins?"

Fili shrugged, looking equally unsure.

"It's _Baggins_ , and we can both hear what you're saying, you know," Bilbo interrupted. "And who is 'he'?"

That's when the light bulb came on, and I scowled. _Of course._

I suddenly knew why Thorin hadn't bothered to keep an eye on me.

Bilbo apparently came to the same conclusion, seeing my huff of indignation. "Oh… Is this about the… M. A. P.?" he spelled out, like it was a big conspiracy.

Now it was my turn to stare at him, dumbfounded, gesturing to my ear and throwing my hand out in a, _'What were you hoping to accomplish?'_ move.

"Well, pardon me. I thought it was supposed to be hush-hush," the Hobbit said in response.

Fili sighed with a smirk, informing us, "Yes… it is more or less about the map; and yes, it needs to stay confidential, but I don't think the grass is going to tell anybody." He gave a vague sweep of his arm to outline the fact that we were riding through a gigantic field.

"You do have a point there," Bilbo mumbled to himself while gazing around awkwardly.

Fili turned to me with an apologetic look, while I continued to give a weak glare. He said earnestly, "We're sorry if it's upset you. Please don't misunderstand – it's not that we think you're up to something, it's just that Thorin can be a little…"

"Cautious?" Kili threw in.

"Exactly," agreed Fili, pointing at his brother momentarily. "Cautious. He means well, though, I swear."

I gave a doubtful glance to the blonde. Cautious was one way of putting it, that's for sure.

Kili said reassuringly, "We'd likely be over here regardless, Miss Jenna. For someone who can't speak, you are quite fun to talk to, and you're one of the strangest people I've ever met – in a good way, of course!"

Attempting to frown at him failed when he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay mad at these dorks and heaved a sigh, rolling my eyes with the smallest of smiles. They took that as a good sign, their mood lifting almost instantly.

While we stopped for a brief lunch later on, I separated from the princes, and Bofur asked how I was holding up, joined by Bifur and Bombur. I shrugged my shoulders and wobbled my hand a bit, giving a smile, since my only real problem was the soreness. (Which was actually getting a little more bearable, thank God.) I was only a few pony-lengths away from them at any given time, but it was still nice to know they were interested in my wellbeing.

Bifur patted the spot next to him and I happily plopped down as we ate. He jabbered something and made a squishing motion with his palms together, confusing the daylights out of me.

Whatever it was made Bofur laugh a bit and he said, "Give the poor lass a little more credit than that."

I quirked my brows in question, glancing back and forth between them. Bofur realized I had stopped eating, noticing my expression, and chuckled with slight guilt.

"Bifur's just surprised ye haven't been squashed by your pony yet, the way you attract trouble," he explained. "Don't take no offense – he's quite right."

My consternation was plain as day when he laughed again, and I looked over to Bifur. As soon as I had him in my sights, and he knew that I knew what he'd said, there was suddenly a very interesting leaf that needed picking up. He set it on his shoulder while he spaced out, and I deadpanned. That little shit.

"He's gotten bad about doing that," Bofur muttered with amusement, staring at his cousin.

I just shook my head and watched Bifur add another leaf to his shoulder pile as I continued to eat.

Bombur was, for some reason, always under the impression that I needed larger portions than what I was consuming. Dwarf portions were impossible for me. Contrary to what my pudge would say, my actual stomach never did hold very much at once, which resulted in me having to fight not to get a massive helping thrown at me. I mean, at least I knew the Brothers Ur would never let me starve if they could help it. This was a plus.

During the break, I also managed to evade all eye contact with Thorin whatsoever. The small achievement left me feeling both relieved and just the slightest bit pathetic, though, so any internal celebration was short-lived. I knew he wouldn't let me shy away for the whole journey, because obviously, I had plenty more questions to answer. Whether Thorin was allowing me space because he assumed I would be embarrassed about that morning, or because he himself was uncomfortable about not having knocked, I had no clue. Either way, the temporary gap in questioning glares was appreciated. Maybe I should just flash people when I wanted them to stay away from now on.

Fili and Kili joined me again once we were back on the road, ever the faithful watchmen… er, watch-Dwarves? Bofur had managed to swipe Bilbo from us, and I could hear the Dwarf giving a loud hoot at something Bilbo said, while the princes on either side of me conversed.

"We've never had reason to be around the women of Men all that often," Fili said after a while. "But from what I've seen so far, you aren't exactly… conventional."

Crinkling my face, I was unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I could tell he wasn't trying to be rude.

"Your mannerisms are all wrong – different, I mean," Kili added, correcting himself quickly. "You're more relaxed than the ones I've met, and you don't bother sitting with your back stiff as a board. You sit however's comfortable, like us!"

I snorted. So I sat like a dude? Or did I sit like a Dwarf?

"And you clearly favor pants to skirts. That in itself is unusual for a lady who doesn't fight or travel very often," said Fili with a glance to my sweatpants.

Kili gave me a cheeky grin, "See? We already have so much in common – I _too_ prefer pants over skirts."

I clamped my mouth together trying not to laugh, raising my eyebrows in an, _'Oh really?'_ face.

"It's true," the brunette continued. "The Dwarrowdams were just too jealous of my beauty, I couldn't wear them anymore lest my life be at risk."

At that, I did throw my head back with a mute laugh, satisfying Kili's inner comedian. Yeah, okay. Maybe Thorin was paranoid, but I could have worse people for spontaneous security. Like Dwalin. Good grief, I could not imagine how awkward that would be. I don't think he would be the type to talk just because I couldn't. Fili and Kili, however, were more than alright with chatting back and forth while I nodded at this and that, trying to keep me in the conversation without me actually being able to converse.

I wondered for a moment if that's why Thorin chose them – because he knew how they acted and how their personalities would lend a hand to the situation – or if he just thought they could use the extra skills testing. Maybe both. Either way, I was glad I hadn't been saddled with more stoic babysitters, and allowed myself to enjoy their light-hearted camaraderie as we rode on.

* * *

 ** _Finally a more laid-back chapter conclusion. (I do love me some cliffhangers though.)_**

 _ **Also, ANNOUNCEMENT: Chapter 11 is the last one that I have fully written and ready to upload, so after that, updates will likely be more spread out. (Unfortunate, but I do have a job and a life, and fanfiction doesn't exactly pay for food. LoL) I'll try my best not to make you wait forever and a day, but good content takes time - which, according to you guys, this qualifies as good content? Haha, I will never be over how much positivity you all have sent my way.**_

 _ **Speaking of, don't forget to review! What did you enjoy most? What did you like the least? I want to hear every bit of it~**_

 _ **Thank you all again, so, so much. ; w ;**_

 _ **Until next time!**_


	11. The Questions

**_You guys give me so much motivation, I swear. :'D_**

 ** _This chapter is lengthy compared to the others, but I'm iffy about how it turned out, so a bit of extra feedback would be much appreciated if you could spare the time. I think it's just because of there being so much Thorin in this one. I'm always so nervous about writing him! Haha just let me know what you think. :)_**

 ** _(Also more info about updates at the end.)_**

 ** _Enjoy, my lovelies~!_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Eleven**

* * *

I was not lucky enough for Thorin to let me avoid him the entire trip.

In fact, that evening as dinner was being prepared, I was setting my belongings down next to Bofur's when I made unfortunate eye contact with Thorin. He was on the opposite side of the camp and I would have gladly gone back to ignoring his existence if he hadn't given the head tilt that plainly meant _'come here'_. I was grateful for the distance he had given me over the day, whether for his own sanity or for mine, I really didn't care. Now, though, it was time to face the music. The awkward, blush-inducing music.

It took every bit of willpower I had to be an adult about this and not shy away.

For all the body image issues I had, showing skin in front of others did not usually bother me. It was some convoluted mix of my free-spirited Aunt's way of thinking, and of being convinced that I had no sex appeal whatsoever. My chest wasn't even all that big, like most people thought chubby girls were automatically endowed with (chubby does not equal 'busty', thanks), but I did have my butt. I mean, that definitely existed.

I guess it was just the thought of _Thorin Oakenshield_ of all people, having seen any part of my less-than-stellar physique. It's not like they didn't already know I was out of shape, (hell, my leg muscles were only just beginning to adapt to riding and it had almost been a week since we started out) but for him to actually _see_ the complete potato he brought along? Like, yeah – as if he needed reminding that I had never picked up a sword in my life, much less used one.

None of that meant I wasn't still embarrassed as hell. I was only human, after all.

Somehow, though, I put up a mental brick wall, conjuring a semi-professional face. My retail employee face, if you will. After dropping my bag, I made my way over to where the Dwarf King was waiting, knowing full-well that the rest of the Company was incredibly curious about the conversation to come. They pretended to be doing other things, of course, except for Gandalf and Balin. Those two were blatantly staring and talking. Nosy geezers.

Thorin was aware of the extra ears, and picked a spot far enough from the others that it gave some semblance of privacy, but not so far that it felt outside of the camp's invisible boundaries. He chose to sit in front of a tree, leaning his back against it, while I stood there for a moment like a dummy. It was only after receiving a look of mild impatience that I realized I was supposed to be sitting as well. I plopped down so fast that it kind of hurt my tailbone, but I hid my wince behind a polite smile as I criss-crossed my legs. I hoped it was polite, anyway.

My apprehension about this was already a mile high, so the long pause while he thought on what to bring up first did not help one iota. Last time, Gandalf had been with us. Now it was just me and Grumps McGee over here. _Just act like he's a coworker,_ I told myself. _Yeah, a really brave, sexy coworker, with a voice that could break the Richter scale._

I'm pretty sure my relief was palpable when he finally started talking.

"You cannot speak. You cannot write. You cannot provide any information about where you've come from or how the tattoo came to be," Thorin began carefully, as if it were a grocery list of upsetting things. "Given the circumstances, you understand why more questions are in order."

 _Obviously_ , I thought, nodding. I leaned forward a bit to signify that I understood and was open to (certain) inquiries, hoping he would recognize that I was trying to be cooperative. Or at the very least, that my ears were functioning.

He did, in fact, notice my shift in posture, and finally allowed his eyebrows to ease up a bit. Now he only looked somewhat irritated instead of completely irritated. What an improvement.

Thorin waited another moment, assessing me, then turned back to stare at the fire again. "That map did not just turn up on your arm," he stated. "Something like that on your person, I assume you know a great deal more than appearances would suggest."

My lips came together in a thin line. Why did that sound mildly offensive? I glanced down to where my accursed tattoo would be if it wasn't covered by a hoodie, and I played with the edges of my sleeves as he continued.

"Gandalf guarantees that he had no hand in its making. Do you swear this?" he asked, ignoring my tiny frown.

I nodded, watching as Thorin tried to spy any deception on my face. It didn't seem to be that he outright thought Gandalf was a liar, but more like he would rather it be magic than some other elaborate mystery. There was a small nod from him in return, a statement accepting the reality of the situation. He understood this was going to get complicated.

As such, I resigned myself to a Q&A session that would span half the bloody trip.

"So you did meet him for the first time at the Halfling's home?" he double-checked. A nod from me, verifying what the wizard already told him. With Gandalf's words confirmed, and with no one else to prove their authenticity, Thorin moved on.

The next question seemed to cause him some pause, and I was vaguely confused as he asked slowly, "Have you come across any Dwarf before who held that map?"

It took me a good moment to realize why his expression was so rigid for this specific issue.

When I did… Oh.

I shook my head with caution, well aware that his thoughts were on his father. That's how Gandalf received the map and the key after all, so it would have been an obvious connection in Thorin's eyes. Thrain had the map before Gandalf, and if Gandalf had nothing to do with my tattoo, that left Thrain – who Thorin had been searching desperately for. Of course that would be at the forefront of his mind.

I was certain that this did not look good for me, but after I answered, Thorin's gaze focused on something unseen as he started mentally crossing off more possibilities. I had never met Thrain and I had never met Gandalf prior to Bag End. What a conundrum this was.

"You have seen the map itself before though, I presume? I don't understand how you would have that tattoo had you not," he said.

I shifted uneasily. That was kind of a loaded question. On one hand, yeah, I had seen the map before, but on the other hand, it wasn't his _actual_ map – just copies and images in my own world. They were only ever remakes of the original, which meant, no, I had not technically seen his map. Except that I had? Oh my aching brain.

He waited, noticing my hesitance, and came to his own conclusion. "So you have seen it before?"

My nose crinkled as I wobbled my hands in the air, shrugging a little. How the hell do you explain this?

"So you have _not?_ " Thorin asked, tilting his chin down to glower at me, getting a little peeved at my indecision.

I frowned at him directly then, trying to convey my frustration. Could he just give me a second? I put only one hand out, wobbling it back and forth very sharply this time while mouthing, _'Sort of.'_ He finally realized my more deliberate reply was the answer he would get.

Thorin appeared dissatisfied with my less-than-specific response – not to mention my attitude. "You have seen it then? In some way?" he questioned severely, tilting forward away from the tree.

I was finally able to nod without feeling like I was lying, but my previous calm was gone. He was already making me a frazzled wreck. My hoodie sleeves were suffering as I twisted the fabric between my fingers again, slouching defensively without realizing.

I wasn't aware of my nervous ticks going off all over the place until his eyes shifted to my hands. Glancing down as well, I ceased their movement when I realized, clasping them together tightly. While I forced my spine to straighten a bit, I looked back to see Thorin exhale sharply through his nose. It was almost like a sigh of annoyance that died halfway through. This was followed by him leaning against the tree once more, though he clearly wanted to be a looming presence while questioning this weird outsider. He had an intimidating aura, and he was probably used to using it.

Obviously that tactic was just going to make me pee my pants, not answer questions.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Thorin tried again, reaffirming, "So you have seen the map, though not outright – somehow. The wizard had nothing to do with it, and the _Valar_ … sent you here, to go on this quest."

He waited for me to deny anything, especially the last part. When I didn't, and just blinked at him, he resumed his evaluation of the predicament.

"Why…?" he murmured, then more directly asked, "Do you yourself even know the reason?"

The inflection in his tone made it obvious that he didn't expect me to. A tiny grimace cropped up before I could squash it entirely, hoping his eagle vision didn't see, but of course it did. The Dwarf King was back to being suspicious and I wondered how quickly I could suffocate myself with my hoodie before the subject wandered further into dangerous territory. Why couldn't I be an aspiring actress? This would've been so much easier.

"You do know, then." It wasn't a question this time.

Purposefully, I stared straight ahead, not trusting my face to shut up. I watched Bombur stirring the big pot over the fire and Bofur preparing the bowls, so I assumed dinner was almost ready. Thank goodness, too. I could feel the laser beams of judgment turning me into Swiss cheese as Thorin examined me. Trying to be calm and honest with him was harder than I expected, but he would catch it in an instant if I tried lying. My deception skills were terrible and he was no dummy.

I took a deep breath, nodding with some reluctance.

"Why?" he asked shortly.

The downfall of Durin's line flashed through my mind and I stared harder at the campfire, forcing myself not to look at the members of said bloodline. Without a doubt, he would have noticed and this whole thing would go to hell in a hand basket. His eyes were boring into me, waiting, and I shook my head forcefully. I wouldn't answer that question in any form. That was final.

Eventually, when he understood that I would not budge regarding that decision, relented on the subject. Of course, he wasn't thrilled about conceding, but there wasn't much for it when I just kept staring forward to not give myself away.

A long silence followed my refusal to respond to this particular query. When I felt it was safe, I peeked back over to him. Again, he was thoughtful, probably trying to draw conclusions that were basically impossible to draw from the information I was giving.

"Are you a Witch of some description?" Thorin asked. He really was trying to touch all the bases, wasn't he?

I stared at him incredulously. My mouth popped open a tiny bit before turning into a nervous half-smile, and I shook my head in answer, amused by the idea.

Thorin was serious though when he questioned further. "You have no… otherworldly abilities?"

Another big 'ole nope.

"An unusual aptitude for healing?"

Unfortunately not. That would've been extremely helpful, though.

"Experience with dragons?" he asked in the most dubious tone I'd ever heard.

Ha. Also a definite _'no.'_

Shaking my head, I watched his brows draw downward, though not in anger this time. He was thoroughly perplexed. Probably the most perplexed he'd been in a while. If me and my unexplainable tattoo were not on his Top Ten list of weirdest shit to ever fall into his life, then my name was Ron Weasley. Why did the Valar send this particular chick if she didn't have any unique talents, he was probably wondering.

Good fucking question, pal.

At about that moment, Bofur made the call for supper, and I could feel myself melt with relief. The members of the Company hopped up and started meandering over for the bowls that Bofur was passing out, and I waited for Thorin to make the first move. I didn't want to be rude and assume he was through with the questions, but… _food_.

I glanced back and forth a few times between him and the small cluster of hungry Dwarves. Eventually, he realized that I had not budged or made any other movement towards dinner.

"Go," he said in a borderline discontented way. "We will continue later."

Another word was not needed, as I was on my feet and scampering over to the automatic line that had formed next to the cooking zone. I had to remind myself not to actually speed walk away from the King, relaxing significantly once I could feel the warmth of the fire. And of course, a certain welcoming aura.

"Everything going alright, lass?" Bofur asked quietly, glancing over to Thorin for clarification when I stepped up.

I gave a wry smile, widening my eyes and staring at the ground dramatically. My shoulders lifted a bit. What did he count as 'alright'?

The hatted-Dwarf understood my ridiculous face, sharing a grin of his own as he handed me a bowl. "Could be turnin' out much worse, I'd imagine," he encouraged. "Here ye go."

I took my bowl, mouthing a quick, _'Thank you.'_ Before I moved from the line, though, I spotted Thorin in the same position I'd left him. I wondered what he was waiting for. These guys could put away some food, and he knew that just as much as anyone. He looked distracted though (probably thinking of a dozen more questions) and an idea came to mind.

Bofur was happy to oblige when I jutted a thumb in the direction of the King, and then held out my hand. My request was easy enough to understand, so moments later, I was ambling back over to where Thorin was, carrying two bowls instead of one. I was going to show him I was nice and trustworthy, dammit.

Obviously, if Thorin was expecting someone to come back over there after our chat, he didn't think it would be me again. (Considering my eagerness to escape his presence, it was no wonder.) He looked up at the sound of footsteps on the grass, his sharp eyes questioning when they met mine. Until he saw the second bowl, that is, and then his face went back to being guarded. Did he think I had a menacing ulterior motive by bringing him din-din? Honestly…

I offered him the bowl of stew, and after a tense moment – good Lord, my nerves could not handle this uncertainty – he accepted it. Thorin took the dish, giving me a nod, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Thank you," he said. His posture was more relaxed, even if his face was not, so I took it as a good thing.

A genuine, non-anxiety-ridden smile crept up on me as I nodded back. I made to go eat my stew with the others, but didn't get but about two steps.

"I do apologize for this morning," Thorin said before I could leave.

My hoodie was suddenly too warm as I remembered what he was talking about. I'd almost succeeded in repressing that memory, so thanks a ton, your Majesty. I could only stare at him, half-turned as I held my bowl, waiting for anything else related to my earlier mortification.

"Admittedly, I should have knocked," he offered, and met my gaze while adding sternly, "and you should have used more caution."

My brief good mood was pushed off a cliff. _Well I mean, you're not_ wrong _, but –_

"As the only woman here, I expected you to already know that, but there happens to be a very crucial part of our quest on your shoulder. Seeing as how we were not the inn's only visitors, the need for prudence should have been clear, Miss Hollander. Use your head next time," Thorin said, more than a little condescending. He stared me down for a heavy moment, before shifting his attention from me to his bowl without another word, obviously through talking, and I just stood there.

 _Amazing_. My mouth scrunched up like I'd just drank pure lemon juice. I bring him food, he gets onto me for possibly exposing the map to others. Others who probably wouldn't even have a clue what to do with said map, much less know anyone who could read it. If anything, his words made me want to throw my shirt on the ground in pure rebellion, but out of respect for the rest of the Company and respect for my non-existent dignity, this would not happen.

I trudged away then, allowing him to eat – and maybe choke on – the stew I brought him. Like I was going to deliver his food ever again.

The tension in my body eased up eventually as I left Thorin's general vicinity, arriving back in the circle of camp. My smile still had not returned though. Curious eyes watched as I made my way over to where I saw Bilbo last and sat down between him and Bofur, who had finished divvying out dinner a few minutes ago.

Bilbo was a smart cookie, and said nothing about my unhappy face. Instead, he commented on the food like a proper Hobbit, saying, "This is quite delicious for what it is. Simple, yet filling. Very enjoyable."

Of course, Bofur found this amusing. "It's the same thing ye had two days ago."

"Well, perhaps I thought its quality was worth mentioning again," Bilbo informed him. Turning to the other Ur brother sitting a few feet away, he said, "Thank you for the stew, Master Bombur. Truly – I could have this for weeks and likely never tire of it."

I choked on a laugh mid-bite, coughing. I was not the only one though, as several of the Company wound up chuckling too, confusing the poor Baggins. Bofur slapped my back a few times as I tried not to suffocate, and despite nearly choking to death, I was grateful for the distraction of our friend's unintentional humor.

"I'm being honest. A Hobbit would never joke about his food," Bilbo said, looking a little cross.

"Oh, we know, lad. We know," Bofur told him with a grin. "That's what makes it all the better."

"Let's just say you'll have plenty of time to appreciate the fare," explained Nori when Bilbo had still not ceased in his puzzling. "Much worse things we could be stuck eatin', though."

"Yes, I agree," Dori piped up. " _You_ could be doing the cookin'."

"Hold on there now! I make a fine brisket, if I may toot my own horn for a moment," said Nori, puffing his chest out. From beside him, Ori bobbed his head in concurrence, causing the other to grow even smugger. Dori sighed at his siblings and brought up a time that Nori made half the neighbors ill from a dinner party.

I watched with a smile as Nori blamed the market he bought the food from and mild bickering ensued, forgetting all about my Durin troubles. That was, until my peripheral caught the King joining Balin and Gandalf closer to camp, in their little geezer club. I briefly wondered what he would say to those two concerning my weirdness, and if Gandalf knew even more about me than he was letting on. He knew about my writing, he knew about me coming from another world, and yet he didn't know about my tattoo. Continuing to finish off my food, I chose to ignore these niggling thoughts, focusing instead on the friendly Dwarf who had just addressed me.

"Do ya cook much, Miss Hollander?" Bofur asked, trying to include me in the conversation.

I shook my head with wide eyes, having horrible flashbacks to a flaming pot of bowtie noodles. Oh, boy. Absolutely not. Unless it was to construct a sandwich, I should not be allowed in the kitchen.

"That's a shame. I would've liked to try some dishes from… wherever ye're from," he replied. "I don't doubt there's a few interesting ones, considerin'."

 _'Considering?'_ I mouthed softly, curious.

"No offense – as always, lass," he said with a slight laugh, causing me to smirk at the often-used words, "but if you yerself are so strange, with such odd belongins' and clothes and demeanor, I can only imagine what food in your world is like."

I cringed as I thought of McDonald's and Taco Bell, and the varying degrees of unhealthiness that came from such places. Cheap, affordable, and delicious, maybe, but not the best for your heart. The food here was incredibly different. There were definitely no genetically engineered, chicken-flavored-paste bites, for one.

Shrugging, I gave a look of flippancy. I didn't particularly miss it, maybe aside from the occasional Starbucks and certain candy bars (and pizza, and French fries, and ramen, and… Oh man, yeah, okay), but it would be better for my health in the long run. I pointed to my bowl and offered a thumbs up to the Dwarf, nodding to convey my fondness for the grub here.

"You mean there's no food you'll miss, being away from home?" Kili spoke up from halfway across camp. I shook my head, and he looked surprised.

Fili leaned forward, stretching one leg out as he said, "We've only just begun and already I miss the way amad could fix a steak pudding."

I nearly gagged. _What in the name of literature is a steak pudding?_

My look of disgusted confusion was not missed, and Fili raised an eyebrow, asking, "Have you never heard of steak pudding? It's very common amongst… well, Dwarves." He seemed to realize then, why it sounded so odd to me.

I heard Bilbo mutter something that sounded like, "Even _Hobbits_ have never heard of such a thing… _Steak pudding…?_ " His monologue and subsequent expression made me giggle.

"Unless she's been around other Dwarves before, it's no wonder she's never heard of it. Men ain't got the taste," Nori added. "It happens to be one of my favorites."

From the little group off to the side, Balin suddenly seemed intrigued and joined the discussion. "Well, Miss Hollander… _Have_ you been around many dwarrow?"

I shook my head in a definite no, wondering why this warranted interest. A slight shift of my vision revealed Thorin to be watching as well, probably stowing information away for future inquiries, while Gandalf beside him was not nearly as tense in his observation. I did my best to disregard the hawk eyes of the King.

"Are we the first you've ever met?" Kili asked eagerly. With my nod, a grin sprang to life and his eyes lit up like I'd just handed him a plate of cookies.

His brother was in a similar state, practically glowing in satisfaction at the news. "In that case, we should work even harder to make a good impression," Fili said.

Their preening was making me laugh, little puffs of air replacing actual noise. Bofur was chuckling as well as he shared a look with me, knowing he had them both beat in the first Dwarf department. We let them have their fun, though. It wasn't a contest.

"Do ye still have Dwarves back home though? Even if you've never met 'em?" Bofur questioned as he stood up and took my empty bowl to stack onto his. He grabbed a few more from others who were finished, glancing back to me for a response. Bofur wasn't the only curious one though, and as the rest of the group waited, I grew nervous.

 _Oh dear. No, not Dwarves in the sense that you're thinking, friend._ I gave an apologetic look before I stared down at the grass I had begun to fiddle with, shaking my head a bit morosely. There were a few noises of distress at this – a murmur from Gloín, some incoherent whine from Ori, and an unrestrained "What?" from Oín. (I wasn't sure if it was because he really didn't hear or if he was just surprised.)

"There are no Dwarves where you come from, whatsoever?" Balin asked, disbelieving, as the Company grew silent.

I shook my head warily, earning another curious stare from Thorin. He looked like someone had just insulted him. Or like a crazy girl had just made the mystery surrounding her twice as complicated.

"Just haven't gone far enough out of your home to find 'em, is all," Dwalin said boredly. The suggestion of my foolishness was not lost on me, and I shook my head once more while meeting his gaze, brows lowered. There were mumbles again, though Dwalin wasn't the least bit bothered by my irritation.

There was a shuffle from Kili, as he sat up straighter and exclaimed, "Well that – that just doesn't make any sense! How can there not be Dwarves in your world?" The poor prince looked as if he were a child who just learned Santa wasn't real. But I mean, this _was_ his entire race, not just some fantastical, jolly old man.

I gave him a shrug. Same reason we didn't have Harry Potter phaffing about, I supposed.

"But… the map! The tattoo?" he continued.

Fili glanced over and understood where the train of thought was going, saying, "Good point, Kili. How could you have a map of a Dwarven kingdom without having the Dwarves themselves?"

Oh my God, there were so many questions that I just couldn't answer! I was back to slouching as I stopped trying to give definite replies, channeling my inner hermit crab. Maybe if I curled up enough, I could just disappear, never to worry about dwarrow ever again.

"Perhaps you received the tattoo after ye came to our world," Balin speculated, and before I could deny it, questioned, "How long have you even been here for, might I ask?"

Still partially curled up, I held out my hands to show them seven fingers.

"Seven… weeks? Months?" Balin tried for, and I kept shaking my head, even more so when he asked, "Years?"

There was a long pause, until Bofur figured it out. "Ye hadn't been here but a _day_ when we found you, lass?" he realized. I nodded to him, and wondered why he looked so bothered at this information, until he said, "And already ye'd been attacked and nearly drowned. Not exactly the warmest of welcomes, that there."

I huffed a sardonic laugh of agreement, rolling my eyes and nodding. _Preach._

"Wait, so – seven _days_?" Kili asked, a little behind the Miner.

Balin made a troubled noise when I confirmed it yet again, and surmised, "She's had the tattoo for a while then. Wouldn't be nearly as healed, had she gotten it a scant few days ago."

There were definitely some curious looks by that point. I mentally groaned, wondering how this conversation about food went downhill so fast.

"So… do you at least have Hobbits? Back home, I mean?" Bilbo asked tentatively, like he was afraid of what my answer might be.

When I gave him a _'no'_ , his round little nose did some kind of twitch as he sniffed, frowning. Bilbo thought for a minute before asking, "Well then – what about Elves?"

There were a few grumbles amongst the Company, mostly along the lines of, "Why would ye even want to know?" or "Blasted pixies," mixed with a few profane things that I blinked at. When I shook my head, there was troupe-wide glee.

"What about Dragons?" Ori chimed in, then glanced over to Gandalf, "Or Wizards?"

"Orcs?" Dori wondered as well. "Goblins?"

When these were all answered with negatives, a short laugh rang out from Gloín as he said, "Aside from the not havin' dwarrow part, it sounds like paradise to me."

"I think I could handle the Men just fine," Dwalin said, seeming to believe my words a bit more, "if it meant no Orcs or Dragons, and especially none 'o them pointy-eared bastards."

Gandalf heaved a sigh, choosing to puff on his pipe and pointedly ignore this conversation, whereas Bilbo… Just, chose to be Bilbo.

"I find that more than a little offensive, Master Dwalin, considering we Hobbits share that particular trait," he started up, and I cringed as he continued, "And besides, Elves can't be all that bad."

Oh, _honey no._

"I've read many books about them. While I've never had the pleasure of meeting one, they're supposedly wise and clever, but also generous beings," Bilbo said, like some kind of Animal Planet host gushing facts about giraffes.

Oh my God, the _looks_ he was getting. As the Hobbit stared halfway skyward with a hand on his chin, trying to remember a certain quote about Elves by some unknown author, I glanced around. Most of the Dwarves resonated with a flaming hatred, though some of the younger ones were just scrunching their faces in disgust. Thorin, however, looked ready to kick the Hobbit to the curb and find a different burglar. Or simply strangle him. Either way.

I started panicking. Did they ever talk about Elves before reaching Rivendell? I couldn't recall anything like that happening. Had I just caused a conversation that would potentially ruin Bilbo's future relationships with these guys? There were some strong bonds formed over the quest, and if this created some kind of premature rift, then shit could hit the fan _real_ quick.

"…though it may have been in the volume prior to that, there was another section which – wha – Miss Hollander, I-I beg your _pardon_?!"

Honestly, my brain does not do well under stress, which is what led me to lick my finger and stick it into his ear. He recoiled instantly.

"Why that… was… quite horrible!" Bilbo exclaimed in between rubbing his ear, desperately trying rid it of leftover spit. He looked at me as he finished, probably worried about my mental state. "Might I ask what that was about?"

I did nothing and just stared at him, waiting, trying to see if he would figure it out on his own. Which he did, eventually. The Hobbit looked around to see if anyone else witnessed my insanity or if he was just going crazy, and I watched his expression change slowly from befuddlement to awareness.

"Did I… say something?" Bilbo asked carefully. "Of course, I've heard there's a history of tension between your races, but I never – "

"Master Baggins," Thorin began loudly, cutting the other off with purpose. He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, in a similar fashion to what he did in Bag End while playing vulture. (He really liked doing that, didn't he?) A few deliberate steps were taken towards us as Thorin stared at something unseen, and continued, "You have joined this mission to reclaim Erebor from a dragon. Naturally, this means there must've been a day when said dragon first overtook the mountain."

Bilbo was completely silent at this point, as were the rest of the Company. And I mean, so was I, but that wasn't exactly new.

"Your books and your collections could not have portrayed the Fall of Erebor with any amount of accuracy," Thorin said, blunt and steely-eyed. "Had they done so, you would not hold such a high opinion of _Elves_."

Enraptured at the intensity of the King, Bilbo waited, now thankfully keeping his literary prowess to himself. I had a pretty good idea where this was going, and I glanced to Gandalf. He was apparently thinking along the same lines as he met my concerned look, and though his expression was not happy, it was not overly-worried either. I took a small amount of reassurance from this, patiently returning my attention to Thorin.

A long pause. Then the inevitable.

"Tell me – are you familiar with the name _Thranduil_ , King of the Woodland Realm?"

* * *

I don't know why it never occurred to me. The small panic I had over the subject of Elves was for nothing, I realized after the fact.

Of course Bilbo had to learn of Erebor's fall at some point, otherwise, how would he ever have the information? How would he ever hear about Thranduil's lack of assistance to the Dwarves, both during and after the dragon's attack? Bilbo would've needed to know these things to write about them whether I was here or not. It was a conversation that would've happened, regardless, and I relaxed significantly upon realizing that I hadn't messed anything up.

I was going to worry myself into an early grave if this kept on.

Bilbo had been attentive, if a bit concerned, as Thorin spoke of the day Smaug took the mountain. It was plain to see from the faces of the Company that this story didn't get any easier to hear or tell over time, and the previously good-humored atmosphere disappeared in the wake of Thorin's bitter words. This was an ordeal that several of them had been alive for, and that the younger ones had heard about since the day they were born. It wasn't just a story, at this point, and that made it all the worse.

"Thranduil turned his back on my people in their time of need. When we were suffering, he looked on without remorse, denying even the scarcest of aid," Thorin growled. "No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since."

I blinked at the recognizable words. Thorin continued, telling the Hobbit of how they had no one to depend on besides their own, how they had to make their own way in the wilds, as I pondered the familiarity of his sentence. Had Bilbo directly quoted Thorin in his book? Had this tale stuck in his mind so vividly, that he remembered those exact words after all those years, and put them in?

Feels came to sucker-punch me in the gut, on top of the already disheartening story of Erebor. I fiddled with my sleeves to hide any emotions I may have been showing, picking at the same loose thread as the tale was winding down.

"So, forgive me if I cannot appreciate the _wisdom_ and _generosity_ of Elves," Thorin finished as he stopped pacing, and glared at the Hobbit, "for I have seen _none of it_."

Bilbo was sitting quietly, and was still doing so long after the story had ended and the order was given for sleep, Thorin now in a right awful mood. I let Bilbo be for a few moments as I organized my bedroll beside Bofur's out of habit.

No doubt, our Shire friend was probably feeling like a bit of a dunce, but it wasn't really his fault. How was he supposed to know just how personal this was for Thorin? Hobbits didn't have gruesome stuff like that. They were tiny folk who smoked pipes on their porches, and had vegetable growing contests, and ate eleven times a day. It wasn't like they could Google catastrophes and see the headline, 'Worst Elf King ever? Ereborians think he is! Read more about Thranduil's bad neighbor skills here.'

If Bilbo had known any history about The Lonely Mountain, I doubt he would've been so confused during the meeting at Bag End. Even if he'd read something about it in passing, then like Thorin said, it couldn't have been very accurate. The Hobbit had a fascination with Elves, so whatever his books contained was probably geared towards an Elven bias, which was not the best information to have bouncing around your brain in this Company.

He was still sitting, staring ahead thoughtfully with a slight frown when I came back over. Everyone else was pretty much done getting their sleep gear laid out and were settling down, save for Gloín, who had first watch. I crouched beside the Hobbit, giving his shoulder a pat to snap him out of it. This worked, even if he did jump about a mile, and looked to see who gave him a spook.

"Ah – yes, right, sorry," Bilbo murmured, upon realizing the camp status. "Thank you, Miss Hollander."

As he wandered away to prepare for bed, I returned to my own, sitting down beside the Ur family and adjusting my blankets one more time. I glanced over to Bilbo and pouted as he set up farther from the Dwarves than usual. Not half a mile out in the wilderness or anything, but just enough for me to notice and feel mildly upset about.

I waited for Bilbo to somewhat be turned my way before patting the massive space of empty ground beside me. The sound amongst the shuffling of the group wasn't enough to grab his attention, so I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth without really thinking about the noise, and patted the ground again. Bofur was already laid down, glancing over to see what on Earth I was doing. He wasn't the only one, as a few others turned their heads briefly at my loud _'click.'_

Bilbo also finally looked at me. I repeated the patting action, waiting as his vision shifted from me, to behind me at the Dwarves, then rested on someone in particular. This specific person caused him to blink, turning back to meet my gaze with a small shake of his head. It was very casual, with a 'don't worry about it' face and a tiny wave of his hand that would have normally been very believable had his brows not been quite so low.

I looked over to the person he'd paused on, and wasn't surprised to see Thorin sitting there. No doubt he was still thinking about Erebor and Elves and shit all over again, and that was probably not the most enjoyable, but this was just unnecessary drama. Bilbo didn't know about Thranduil's ass-hattery and now he did. Ta-da!

Thorin realized I was staring at him and met my concerned look with the same agitated expression that came pre-installed. I was still not extraordinarily happy with the way he handled that warning against indecency, so his handling of the Hobbit didn't earn any bonus points. Hot tamale or not, he needed to find his chill.

I quirked a troubled eyebrow at him, wondering what he thought pushing his would-be Burglar away was going to accomplish, which only earned me a pair of narrowed blue eyes. Thorin wasn't exactly thrilled by my resistance to the group thought process, and evidently lumped me into the 'ignorant little girl' category, if I was reading that face right.

Well, I wasn't exactly thrilled to be stuck with fifteen dudes for half a year, so he could just go build a bridge.

With a huff, I broke eye contact with Thorin and stood up before Bilbo could get situated. I strode over, grabbing the blankets and dragging them over next to mine while ignoring his little squeaks of protest. Then I sat, waiting expectantly and also a bit creepily for him to lie down. He paused for a long moment and stared at me, wiggling his fingers in that odd manner that signaled uncertainty, while Bofur chuckled.

"She seems a bit determined. I'd just go with it, if I were you, lad," the Dwarf said tiredly.

Of course, Bilbo went with it. Hesitantly, and a little worried about King Broods-A-Lot, but he still went with it. I smiled as he got settled, feeling satisfied.

As an act of peace that I didn't think I could actually muster and mean it, I offered a genuine smile to Thorin as well. A nice one for once, with no sarcastic intent. My way of saying that the Hobbit was a good little dude and he shouldn't be shunned for not having all the knowledge in the world, but also to say, _'Hey, this doesn't mean we're enemies.'_

Thorin was thrown off a bit by that attitude, obviously having expected belligerence or something equally hostile after our previous chat. His face was not quite so rigid then, and I waited anxiously for a reaction. I saw his chest rise with a deep breath as he looked away, exasperation still a gentle presence in his bearing, but he wasn't angry per say. Probably thought I was a dumbass, but that was fine.

' _Kill 'em with kindness_ ,' my Aunt told me once. I kept that in mind for many years after, especially when I got a job and was actually required to be nice to people who weren't the most pleasant to be around. It was a good enough motto – suitable for situations I would never have guessed – and I hoped that it would be applicable here as well.

A light snickering caught my attention before I could lie down entirely, and I peered over to see Fili wiping his ear quickly, glaring at his brother. Kili, the source of the laughter, was immediately pushed to the ground. Fili then proceeded to cover his finger in saliva and stick in his brother's ear, repaying him for the wet-willy he'd obviously just received. I wondered briefly if I would regret letting them learn that.

Even if this quest felt as though a guillotine was hovering over my head (and three others), I would try to stay positive. Given my recent bout of depression, this was probably going to backfire horrendously and end with me crying in a ditch, but no one would be able to say that I didn't try. Maybe if I kept up good spirits, then it would rub off on a certain cranky royal. He would figure out I was here to lend a hand. Eventually.

 _Kill 'em with kindness._ Yeah. I would do that, but the opposite of the first part.

Of course, things were always easier said than done, especially when Dwarves are involved.

* * *

 ** _And there we go. :D_**

 ** _I definitely want to hear from you guys about this chapter. Was everyone in character? Did it flow okay? What was your favorite part? The usual nonsense that feeds my soul. Please let me know what you thought!_**

 ** _As far as my updates go - this is the last chapter I have fully written and ready. I'm currently working on 12, and it looks like I'll be able to maintain the same schedule through that one at least. We'll just need to see how it goes after that._**

 ** _Again, you guys are such a huge part of my motivation. It's incredibly helpful to hear what specifically you liked (or didn't!) about a chapter. Fanfic writers are needy people, because we only get paid in your love. :')_**

 ** _Anyway, thank you all so much for reading! Your support is so very appreciated._**

 ** _Until next time~!_**


	12. The Answers

_**Hello again! :D I've decided I'm going to go ahead and reply to anon reviewers as well. Really, you guys are the best. I should've been doing this from the beginning, but better late than never!**_

 **RedBear5 _: I got your review on Chapter 6 in my email, but it's not letting me reply via ff, but thank you. I'm glad you like the moon runes idea! :)_**

 **Guest _: Thank you, the wet willy part was too much fun to write! lol_**

 **Koba _: Pure sunshine, definitely. But LOL at the thought of Thorin getting a wet willy! I don't think he'd appreciate that too much. XD Thank you!_**

 **Nox _: Here is more! XD_**

 **Megan VR _: Thank you so much! Concerning the between bits - I know though, right? I love finding fanfics that delve into the stuff between all the known scenes, but when you run out of ones to read, I guess you have to make your own! Haha._**

 **SortingHat _: Congratulations on being my first truly unhappy reviewer! I feel like a real writer now~ I'm glad to finally see a different opinion on the matter as well. You believe what you want to about those reviews, buddy, but thank you all the same!_**

 ** _Alrighty then!_**

 ** _Further announcements at the end, like usual, but for now - enjoy! :D_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Between Fili, Kili, Bofur, and I, the Hobbit was able to shake off the glum atmosphere eventually. Though Bilbo was more wary about his words, he returned to his usual, vaguely nerdy self after a time. Even if Thorin attempted to further shun their would-be-burglar, his nephews didn't have it in them to hold the lack of worldly experience against Bilbo, as they were in a similar boat. I was as well, but there was only so much support I could give without a voice, so the assistance in cheering him up was appreciated. We trotted along, the topics shifting around lazily every so often, Fili and Kili's natural charisma doing wonders for my positivity. It was just casual talk about anything that popped into their heads, but it helped.

Lunch was once again had with the Ur family, and I realized later that evening, as Thorin made the move for more questions, that a routine was trying to make itself known. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. Routine was supposed to be healthy, but I doubt those specialists had some crazy trek across Middle Earth in mind when they said that.

The second official inquiry was just as awkward and stressful as the last. I could understand a certain amount of edginess that this situation would bring out, and I guess that's what kept me from flipping the bird a few times (not that he would know what that meant), but this understanding didn't mean I was magically calm and collected. Gandalf hit the nail on the head when he told Thorin to be more patient.

Camp was made some ways from the road, behind a copse of trees so that we weren't super obvious to passersby. The ponies were tended to and supper was in the making, so most of the Company was either fiddling with their gear in a productive fashion, or they were BS-ing to seem busy. Likely the latter in some cases, seeing as how Nori had re-laced his boots about five times now.

As for me, I was having my arm checked out by Oín again. We'd been keeping up with my cut well enough, and he said it was healing just fine with the assistance of stitches. With any luck, the inevitable scar would look like a badass underline to my tattoo, and that was all right considering the alternative had almost been losing the appendage.

I was sitting on the ground and, right as Oín was nearly finished giving me a check-up, my eyes searched for the King of their own accord. We had loads more to discuss, even if I wasn't super excited about it. Thorin was already waiting some ways away, so it was easy to lock eyes with him and provide a questioning look – ' _Do I really have to do this?'_ – that probably came across as more dismal than inquiring.

There was, dare I say it, an ounce of amusement in his expression when he saw my discontent. It was gone in roughly two seconds, but it made me wonder if he didn't actually hate me as a person, and if it was just the conditions that were driving him bonkers. (I hoped so, anyway.)

Thorin came over to where I was sitting with the old healer, and stood behind Oín as he worked. I was curious as to why Thorin chose this positioning, until I remembered the obvious. Usually he was busy with other things when we looked at my stitches, so this was really only the second time he'd gotten to examine the map tattoo – and no, Bree did not count. I refused to acknowledge that short moment of indignity as him 'seeing the map'.

"Comin' along well," Oín announced, putting the excess bandages away. "Should be able to get those stitches out soon and it'll be right as rain."

I smiled as I always did, showing my appreciation for the Dwarf's help. Oín gave my uninjured arm a pat of goodwill, and stood to go about whatever business he needed to attend to for the evening, as I pulled my sleeve back down and broke Thorin's gaze on the map.

"Thank you, Oín," Thorin said in passing, while acting like he hadn't been examining the tattoo. I don't know why, though. He had every right to be curious.

"Of course. Always glad to be of assistance," the medic replied, and departed to put his supplies up.

I stood as well, dusting off my pants and nearly sighing as I looked back to Thorin expectantly. He seemed equally happy about the situation – and by 'happy', I mean he looked like he would rather be plucking his leg hairs out one by one than interrogating me again. He gave a small nod and turned, me trailing after as he walked over to Balin. They exchanged a few words that I only heard half of due to the shuffle of camp being set up. Something about…

"Well, alright then," said Balin. "I can certainly keep an eye on things for a moment. Thought I saw some relatively dry branches on the way here, so it might be a good place to start."

Thorin nodded, leaving Balin behind and I followed, as he told me, "We're going to collect more kindling."

Which translated to 'further questions, but with sticks.'

The area where we set up for the evening was lacking on tree limbs of the fire-appropriate type, so Thorin and I traversed over to the group of trees blocking the campsite from the road's view. We could still see the Company, though there were many yards between us and them.

Faintly, I heard Bofur's laugh, and glanced back to see the far away figure of Nori waving something around. Twilight was setting in, though we still had some time before total darkness, and the distant shapes were vague beside the small fire. Was he holding a ladle?

"Miss Hollander."

I quickly turned my attention back to the reason I was out here in the first place. Of course, Thorin was already beginning his search for firewood, so I awkwardly did the same, picking through fallen twigs and sticks to see which were dry enough to use. There was only silence as we did this for a few minutes, until I finally found a decent one. Proud of myself, I took a peek over at Thorin and realized he already had like, seven. I frowned at my twig.

Unfortunately, my poor firewood gathering skills drew Thorin's attention. I was extremely aware of his eyes on me, and had no doubt he was judging my lack of experience with the outdoors. The result was skyrocketing anxiety on my part, obviously.

In my haste to prove I knew how to do something as simple as collect kindling, I bent to grab another twig. When I did, my shoe caught on a root as I moved, causing me to fall forward and smack the top of my head against a tree trunk. I pushed off the tree awkwardly with my free hand and returned to a standing position, rubbing my scratched up scalp.

Thorin didn't say a word. My embarrassment doubled when I glanced up to see him simply staring at me, unreadable, possibly just now realizing what kind of a moron had been thrown at him. Ever so slowly, he looked away and continued to sift through the underbrush. If there was a receipt for Valar-deigned quest aid, he would probably have returned me immediately.

The uncomfortable quiet returned with a vengeance and I wondered if he was doing this on purpose, just to unnerve me. I wouldn't have put it past him.

"So you'd heard Erebor's tale before yesterday, then?" Thorin spoke up finally. I almost jumped at the noise, I was so tightly wound.

I paused in order to calm myself, curious to how he reached that conclusion. In the same moment that I looked over, he did as well, and my puzzlement at the first choice of topic was blatant.

Thorin seemed on the borders of satirical amusement again as he explained, "You're terribly easy to read. A fortunate happenstance."

My lips came together in a tight line and I shifted away to look for more sticks. I picked up another, and Thorin made a 'hm' sound, like I just proved him right about something by turning my face from his view. I resisted rolling my eyes.

"Kili was onto something, last night," he continued, working as he talked. I listened, wondering what on Earth he was referring to. "If there are no Dwarves in your… _world_ , then you should have no knowledge of such events. Much less have a map depicting our kingdom, in any form."

Another twig in my growing bundle.

"Is it possible something happened to the dwarrow of your home? Before your time?" he speculated, clarifying certain things from the previous night's discoveries. He glanced over to see me shake my head at this theory. That frustration was slowly coming back to crease his brows as he asked, "So you truly mean they just… never existed?"

The corner of my mouth tweaked in an apology – what for, I don't know. It's not like it was my fault.

Thorin continued on that vein, asking, "The other races as well?"

My useless shrug came up even though I was already nodding. Consternation was a good word for what little expression I could understand on his face.

The pile of firewood in his arms was much more impressive than mine, just as I figured would happen. I never did do a lot of camping or cooking outdoors on a bonfire, so this wasn't really something I had practice in. That, and we were losing the light. Yeah, that was it. Sure. Blame the light.

"And you've only been here for one week?" he recalled. Another non-question disguised as a question that I nodded to all the same.

Thorin took a moment to think on the information I was allowing him, and as I watched those gears turning once more, I was suddenly worried. He was no fool, but this was just beyond him. The aggravation was slowly mounting and I wondered how long his patience would last. How could he ever guess that their entire universe was made of written words on paper? The answer was that he couldn't, and that was probably going to piss him off.

To put a little more distance between us, I wandered over to the edge of the trees where I spotted a particularly flammable looking branch. From my vantage point, I could see the desolate road where we came from, though it faded into darkness when it reached the forest we passed through. Everything was tinged in that weird, dark blue of coming night, and the crickets and the frogs were speaking up. It felt eerie and I almost shivered.

Thorin was still in that contemplative state, face reverting into the trademark scowl. "I hope you're aware of how little sense this makes," he said. The tone felt a bit critical, and I tried not to visibly brace myself. "You say there are no Dwarves in your land, though nevertheless have a basic understanding of dwarrow here."

I couldn't help the questioning look that overcame me as I stood up straight. What did he mean? What did I understand about them?

"Miss Hollander, you kept the Halfling from saying anything further yesterday, clearly knowing how his opinion of Elves would be received. You had that tattoo prior to arrival, and you knew of not only the loss of Erebor, but also of our quest, yet claim that we're the first Dwarves you have met. I am supposed to believe you're from another world, but there is only one Erebor, and it is here – in _Middle Earth_ ," he enlightened me dryly.

I resisted the urge to snap the smaller twigs in my hands nervously, as my heart began thumping loud enough to be mistaken as Dubstep.

"Unless those two _Men_ from Bree decided to give you a history lesson regarding Dwarves – and that is highly doubtful," Thorin remarked scathingly, remembering their prejudice, "then you've come across this information by other means."

 _Yes, other means, like J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema._

Thorin locked eyes with me, and I felt like a deer in the headlights. " _Somehow_ you have this knowledge, just as you _somehow_ saw that map. So, either you are lying, which is _not_ recommended," Thorin cautioned, stare unyielding, "or there is something else at work that I cannot decipher."

A twig in my bunch cracked loudly. I looked down to break that distressing eye contact, pretending to see if I stepped on one. _Stupendous._ This royal pain was more perceptive than people gave him credit for, and I instantly regretted giving him answers of any sort. I should've just played dumb while I had the chance. Maybe it wasn't too late to spear myself on one of these sticks…

Thorin stared at my shoulder, as though he could still see the tattoo beneath my sleeve. For another long moment, he looked like he was weighing something in his mind, before he began again.

"The runes themselves," Thorin started, with an edge to the tone. "Do you know of what they speak?"

 _Shit._ I don't know why I didn't expect him to ask that. My teeth came together with a tensing of my jaw, but I knew he was waiting for an answer, so I nodded.

The King seemed both surprised and concerned by this new information. "So you know how to read ancient Dwarvish?"

I unclenched my teeth and my mouth opened a tad as I shook my head. This, it seemed, was not a good answer, since it caused Thorin's confused glowering to come back with more force.

"You swear you encountered no other Dwarves before us?" he asked. There was that note in his voice again. Slightly airy, but firm.

I stopped. Blinking a few times to relax my expression, I met the eyes of the King again. I wasn't supposed to know anything about his father – any understanding that showed on my face would be detrimental, and possibly lead him to think I was keeping information about his family from him. (Which, again, technically speaking…) If I knew one thing about Thorin Oakenshield, it was that he didn't play around when it came to his family, and he probably viewed me as an annoying road block on the path to finding Thrain. Thrain, who was… well. No longer findable.

Of course, my expression concealed these thoughts about as well as a tissue keeps you dry in a rainstorm. The tiny nod I gave couldn't have been more apprehensive, and I damn-near sighed at my inability to stay calm.

Thorin exhaled through his nose quickly, looking away in vexation. He glanced about the land as if his thoughts were strewn upon it and he was trying to put them all back in order. Once more, when he finally brought his eyes back to me, I was on the receiving end of his trademark scowl.

"Why do you look so uncertain of your own answers?" he demanded with more conviction. "What is it you're trying to hide?"

 _Uh, well, quite a lot of stuff, actually,_ I thought as I readjusted the sticks in my arms. The secrets bouncing around in my head were being translated on his end as something they weren't. I didn't know how to salvage the situation, because the anxiety for lying and the anxiety for secrecy manifested in the same way on face, no matter which one was actually happening. My lip was caught between my teeth as I let my gaze fall to the ground. Another motion he would mistake for guilt. Mentally, I smacked myself.

A few strides and Thorin was suddenly in front of me, using that looming posture he was so fond of. Standing tall for his height, yet glaring from under his brow at the same time. (How did he even _manage_ that?) I did the opposite, of course, hunching my shoulders as I snapped my eyes up to look at him and fumbling a few of my sad twigs in surprise at his approach. Two or three sticks fell to the ground, but I was much more focused on the intimidating dwarrow at that moment.

"Do _not_ deceive me," Thorin uttered, his deep voice rumbling much too close. "You have no right to bear that map, nor any right to keep secrets concerning it, and I _will_ have the truth from you."

 _Too close._ My face was blazing at his proximity, but I was damn near shaking at the thought of him finding out more. Whatever answers I gave, there would be consequences, and I should have recognized that before any of this began. Telling half the truth was only making him crabby and impatient, and for my own safety, I didn't exactly want to go testing those limits, but the whole truth was so complex. Where would I even begin? _How_ would I even begin? _Should_ I even begin?

The only thing I could do was nod carefully in agreement with his words, hoping he would understand the meaning. _'Yes, you will have the truth,'_ I tried to convey, and only then did I realize what kind of spur-of-the-moment decision I'd made.

 _Dammit, Jenna._

Cautiously, Thorin searched for any kind of deception on my face. Those blue eyes were probably able to sift through my very soul, and only after several moments of this was he content to allow me breathing room, taking a deliberate step back. He was still guarded, but no longer actively trying to intimidate me at least.

He waited until I looked less inclined to hyperventilate before continuing. "Though I do not know the weight of it, I would ask you give your word," Thorin said in a resigned manner.

I tilted my head a little. _'About?'_

For a moment, Thorin looked at me like I was dense, but I wanted verification of what he was requesting before I made any promise. "Swear your answers are genuine – no tricks, no lies. That you have been, and will be, nothing but honest as this continues."

Of course, I huffed at that, aggravated that he still thought I was being devious. Yeah, okay, so my answers really didn't add up. I could see his point, but I didn't like being called a liar.

"Miss Hollander, when you agreed to questioning, I had hoped it would not be necessary, but I call for an oath nonetheless. On your honor if need be," Thorin maintained, choosing to ignore my unconcealed annoyance.

Despite my displeasure, I thought long and hard about it. I wasn't one to just make promises all willy-nilly. They were important to me and I took them seriously, so if I decided on this course of action then it was a path of no return. I mean, it's not like I had been lying to start with since I was obviously trying to win their trust (and I couldn't lie worth a damn besides), but what if he asked another question like last night? About why I was actually there? Did refusing to answer count as lying, or was that the only safe ground I would have?

Really, there was only one thing for it. Thorin was staring me down, growing steadily impatient again, and this was possibly the only way to get him to believe me.

I offered my balled-up free hand, pinky sticking out expectantly.

…Not sure why I thought a Middle Earth resident would know what a pinky promise was.

"What are you doing?" Thorin asked suspiciously, watching my hand.

I really did roll my eyes then, as I realized my culture clash mistake. He seemed to think I was rolling my eyes at him though, so when he began glaring once more, I shook my head in apology. I held out my pinky again, giving a nod towards his own free hand to explain what I wanted.

Gradually, while keeping eye contact, Thorin brought a hand up to the same level. From his posture, he either expected me to forgo this exchange, or for me to turn into a werewolf and bite his entire arm off.

Neither happened, obviously. I slowly moved my hand forward, incredibly wary not to make any sudden movements around this hardened warrior who didn't quite trust me yet. I waited until he got the hint and stuck out his own thick pinky finger, still looking extremely apprehensive about this entire thing, before I closed the gap and wrapped mine around his. First contact with Thorin Oakenshield, and it was a pinky promise. I almost laughed.

Thorin's face was expectant and inquiring, like he wanted to say, _'Now what?'_ but didn't want to bother with such a casual remark.

I gave the calloused digit a small squeeze before initiating a very careful bob of a hand-shake motion. With a nod, I released my pinky's grip and waited.

He let his arm relax and fall back to his side. Looking utterly unimpressed, he said, "Is that some form of oath where you come from?"

I wobbled my head a little before deciding on a simple nod. It would be too hard to explain that it was mostly used by children and exceedingly sappy adults, though it was probably for the best he didn't know that tiny detail.

"It doesn't seem a very dependable way to give one's word," Thorin observed, picking up on its simplicity with doubtfulness.

I gave a half-hearted shrug ( _'It's all I've got, dude.'_ ), as I re-gathered the sticks I dropped and settled them back into my bundle. He said nothing while I did this, glancing back to our poorly lit campsite, deep in thought. A few seconds of awkward quiet passed and I began to accumulate more firewood to avoid the air of anticipation.

Eventually, Thorin said with finality, "Very well."

I stopped picking up twigs and stood straight, hoping that meant he had accepted my promise. He turned back to me and made no mention of my obviously higher spirits, simply taking a peek at the amount of sticks I'd collected before starting back towards camp.

"We have enough," Thorin announced as he walked.

Though he couldn't see, I nodded anyway and made to follow. Maybe now, with any luck, he would be more inclined to believe my inexplicable answers and less inclined to loom over me with all the presence of a hairy Dracula.

Before I left the edge of the tree cluster, I took a quick look back at the road one more time with an unexplainable tingle on the back of my neck. The forest across the way was just a wall of black by then, and the path into it was barely illuminated by the moon. An uneasy sensation crept into my stomach as the inky, distant shapes of plants swayed in the light breeze crossing the land. Something shifted between the trees and I tensed.

 _Just a plant,_ I told myself desperately. The Orcs weren't supposed to find us until much later, right? I glanced over to Thorin, who was halfway back to camp by that point, and then my attention was on the forest again.

The shape was gone though. Whatever I thought I saw was gone, and I basically jogged after Thorin. When I reached him, my paranoia lessened, but the unease was still there. My speedy arrival at his side earned a curious look from the King, though he didn't ask and I didn't bother trying to explain. With his opinion of me so far, he'd probably just think I was afraid of the dark. Which, I mean… wouldn't be a total lie, sadly.

 _If it wasn't a swaying plant, then it was deer. Yeah. That sounds good,_ I reassured myself.

Thorin deposited his bundle of kindling at the edge of camp and I did the same, brushing my hands off on my pants afterwards. A few of the Company were chatting away, and Bofur had somehow managed to get the ladle back from Nori, thank goodness. I didn't really trust Nori's cooking ability, no matter what he said about his brisket.

Before I found a spot to sit, I noticed the cooking fire was already trying to dwindle, much to Bombur's annoyance, so I took a few larger sticks over in an attempt to be helpful. A bonus was distracting myself from the chills that remained on my spine. Bombur smiled when I reached him and took the proffered fuel with a simple, "Thank you, lass."

I nodded with a grin in return. My mood lifted a little, both because I'd convinced myself that what I saw was just wildlife, but also since the questioning from Thorin turned out better than expected. Still awkward, of course, but that couldn't really be helped. While a pinky promise wasn't much, it was a start all the same, so I was able to pick my way across camp and sit beside Bilbo with less tension in my body.

"Hello again, Miss Hollander," Bilbo welcomed me. "Haven't gotten a chance to speak to you much today. How are… things going for you?" With the pause, he took a pointed look in Thorin's direction.

Looking over as well, I saw the walking raincloud had drawn Balin away from camp to talk about something. Every so often Thorin would give a hand gesture, and in return Balin had rested his hands on his hips, sighing heavily while listening to the other. I was incredibly curious as to what they were saying, but I remembered I had yet to answer Bilbo. Facing the Hobbit again, I gave an optimistic shrug using only one shoulder.

"Well, you're still in one piece – and, of course, able to smile. Must've done something right, in that case," Bilbo said quietly.

I puffed an airy snort from my nose at that.

For a moment, Bilbo paused to make sure no one was super close to us, before he whispered, "I do want to thank you for – er, not the finger in the ear, as I honestly could have done without that – but for stopping me. Before I could make an even bigger fool of myself about the… Elves, and such."

He surprised me with this, since I hadn't expected any kind of thanks for something so simple. It was nice all the same, though, and I smiled softly at his consideration.

"Everyone knows their kind don't get on with one another – since the very beginning of it all. Hard problem to miss, though I obviously have need for more… _assorted_ authors in my library," Bilbo murmured, sounding a little salty as he absentmindedly picked grass off his pants leg. Then he returned his gaze to me. "I'd no idea it was such a delicate issue with this bunch. That things were still… like that."

Maybe Gandalf was right in shoving this little guy out his front door. An adventure would be good for him, indeed. I puffed my cheeks up and slowly exhaled the air in a sigh, nodding blandly.

"Sorry, if you don't mind my asking, but how – how _did_ you know?" Bilbo pondered, dangerously skirting the same track that Thorin previously had. "You had mentioned… well, you said there were no other races where you come from, so just how would you have known to stop my rambling about Elves?"

I simply shook my head in exasperation, looking away and slapping both hands over my face. Scrubbing them up and down a few times, I sucked in a breath through my teeth before letting my hands slide back to my lap. There was just no _escaping_ this shit, _was there?_

"I'm… sorry?" came the hesitant apology. I frowned at Bilbo from the corner of my eye as he realized I did, in fact, mind him asking. "I apologize if I've stuck my nose where it doesn't belong, Miss Hollander – my Tookish half seems to be having a ball these days, unfortunately."

Yet another sigh was released from my lungs. I wasn't really mad at him specifically, but rather at my inability to respond. There were so many things people wanted to know that I just… _couldn't explain._ Before that point, my muteness had been a minor inconvenience, but now it had reached the level of 'absolute hassle'. And we weren't even a quarter of the way into this mess!

"Miss Hollander, ye doin' alright over here?"

My head jerked up in time to see Bofur standing there with a worried look on his face, and he promptly squatted in front of where I was seated. I could only respond with a pleading expression that he totally mistook, glancing over at Bilbo in confusion, and I quickly put my palms out and shook them along with my head. He understood then that it wasn't Bilbo's fault. Not entirely, at least.

"I would ask if ye wanted to talk about it, but I don't suppose that would help matters much," Bofur chuckled, and my face turned sour as I squinted at him. He merely gave a reassuring smile, tilting his chin down and looking at me from under his brow. "What's wrong, lass?"

My frown melted back into a dejected moping. I could only flail my arms in front of me, gesturing to my throat and then turning my palms skyward as my fingers curled into angry claws.

He got the message without difficulty, giving a solemn nod in respect for my irritation. "I understand what ye're sayin'. It can't be the easiest thing in the world, losing your way of communicatin'. Why, I remember when Bifur – "

And then he froze. For a second, he just stared into space with concentration, and I began to grow concerned, sharing a look with Bilbo. The Hobbit only shrugged, not knowing anymore than I did. I watched as Bofur's face gradually eased up, ever so slowly illuminating as if it were a damn Christmas tree.

Bofur was suddenly grinning ear to ear and stood up so fast that a few leaves were kicked onto my lap. "That's it!" he exclaimed, gaining the attention of every single Company member as he ran over to his cousin, briefly grabbing his shoulders. "Bifur, you're a genius, and don't let no one tell ye otherwise!"

Just as quickly, the miner bounded across the campsite and out of the circle to – well, to where Thorin and Balin were standing. Now I was _really_ wondering what popped into Bofur's brain just then. I dared to glance back at the stunned Bifur to see if there was a clue, but he was wide-eyed and just as confused as the rest of us.

I watched Bofur's interaction with the other two carefully, as he waved his hands about in his animated fashion, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Balin's mood changed suddenly, and he seemed halfway appalled, like he'd just been told to go eat a pinecone or lick a boot. Thorin's face was stuck in much the same look, except that his eyes moved over to me after a moment, and this expression steadily shifted into deep consideration as I stared back. It was all rather alarming. _What the hell are you telling them, Bofur?!_

The ones sitting closest to them, who could actually hear the conversation – Ori, Fili, and Kili – all exchanged looks of surprise, their eyebrows rising into their hairline as they looked over to me as well. Fili seemed happy about it, a small smile playing on his mouth as he turned back to his brother and said something. Kili had an almost worried look as he avoided eye contact with the eldest. Ori asked a question and Kili gave a sheepish half-smile, shrugging, which earned an exasperated smack on the back of the head from Fili.

I simply blinked at them, waiting.

My patience was not in vain as Bofur finally stopped talking and awaited a verdict. Balin and Thorin were in a slight debate, apparently unable to agree on whatever this was. Thorin finally said something that gave the white-haired Dwarf pause, followed by a profound sigh (he was good at that) and an understanding nod.

Bofur was the first to mosey back into camp, slightly giddy when he came over to my spot. I pinned him with a befuddled stare, and he laughed, saying, "Don't worry, lass. Ye'll figure it out soon enough."

Wow, thanks. That was so helpful. My mouth hung open slightly as my lip curled at his vague answer, and as he held a hand out for me to grab, I hesitated before accepting. He helped me to stand, then Bilbo got up as well after a gesture for him to follow. Bofur ushered us over to Gandalf without hesitation.

"Now, if all of ye will just go stand over there, we Dwarves've got somethin' to discuss," Bofur said, thoroughly stumping me as he pointed to a big rock in the middle of a field.

I looked up to Gandalf, hoping he could shed some light on the situation. He only gave me a knowing look, shaking his head, "It's best if we leave them to it, my dear. Obviously it is something of importance, or they would not go to such trouble."

Then he muttered some incantation and the top of his staff lit up, allowing us to see the ground and not trip as we walked out of earshot of the group. Not exactly the light I wanted to be shed, but…

"What on Earth could they be talking about that's so secret?" Bilbo asked, once we reached the rock. We were just standing, watching as Thorin addressed the issue of Lord-knew-what from the center of camp.

"Dwarves are a secretive race in of themselves, Bilbo," Gandalf responded. "It truly could be anything."

We observed as Thorin stopped talking, and everyone except Dori and Dwalin raised their hands. _Wait, no, there he goes._ Dori joined in after visible hesitance, and Dwalin gave a flippant wave of his hand as some rough go-ahead. It suddenly struck me what they were up to.

 _Voting?_ What the fuck would they be _voting_ on?

Thorin nodded once, saying something to Bofur, who in turn made his way to the edge of the circle and waved his arms, gesturing for us to come back. We returned shortly after and Gandalf deactivated his staff of wrong-light-shedding as I made my way to Bofur, my puzzlement clear. He told me nothing, instead waiting on a certain royal to do the honors.

I turned my attention to Thorin as he stepped up.

"As I am sure you're aware, Miss Hollander," Thorin said, sticking in a subtle reference to the vague knowledge he was positive I had, "Dwarves are not ones to divulge information of our culture without exceptional reason."

I nodded seriously, eyes most likely wide enough to challenge a Powerpuff Girl. Yes, I knew these things.

"This being said," he continued sternly, "Bofur has proposed a resolution to your problem if, of course, we gave our approval in majority."

Glancing at Bofur, he gave me a smile, and I felt a little better about what direction this was taking. I locked eyes with Thorin once again, and I'm pleased to say, I was not quite so nervous about having that powerful stare on me.

"Starting tomorrow, you are to learn the Dwarven sign language – the Iglishmêk."

* * *

 ** _Oooh~! :D_**

 ** _Okey doke - Announcement One: I have Chapter 13 mostly finished (needs some fine tuning), but after the October 10th update, I am truly out of ready chapters. It will be the beginning of the waiting game, as my real life does call sometimes, but I will try my hardest not to make you wait forever. :'(_**

 ** _Announcement Two: Chapter 13 also happens to be an experimental chapter - if you guys like it, I will do it again in future segments of the story, if not... Well I mean, some parts of the plot call for it, so tough titties. XD (jk I really value your input, so I'll make it work for everyone in the end.)_**

 ** _Announcement Three: All I know of the_ _Iglishmêk is from the Tolkien Gateway and the One Ring Wiki, which is to say... not much at all. So there will be some creative liberties taken. If you know anything in depth about it, by all means, let me know! Please! XD_**

 ** _Other than that, I think we're done, folks!_**

 ** _A gigantic thank you to everyone once again, and especially to you reviewers out there. Your input is amazing - positive or negative, good or bad! I love hearing from you guys!_**

 ** _Until next time~!_**


	13. In Which Thorin Thinks

**_Hello, everyone! It's a bit later in the day than I usually upload, but it's here! The experimental chapter that I hope still piques your interest. :)_**

 ** _But first._**

 ** _To_ Megan VR _: LoL! Martin is absolutely hilarious. Gotta love that guy. I'm glad you're still finding Jenna entertaining, and that you like the way I'm portraying Thorin so far. It really puts some pep in my step to hear that. Thank you!_**

 ** _To_ Guest _(Oct. 3): It makes me happy to hear you're enjoying the OC. Sometimes they do get a little obnoxious, unfortunately. I'll try my hardest to keep it as 'refreshing' as you say it is! Thank you so much!_**

 ** _And a big thank you to the other guests as well! The pinky promise seemed to be a real winner. XD_**

 ** _Anyway, here we go. Enjoy! :)_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield had seen a great many things in his life. Possibly more than anyone _should_ see, at any rate, and after all he had experienced, very few could surprise him at this point in time. He wasn't sure if he wanted anymore surprises, but to be fair, the majority he received so far had been rather disagreeable.

That is, of course, where Miss Hollander saw fit to step in.

The atmosphere had been slightly off when he'd entered the Hobbit's home that night. It wasn't overly clear what it was and likely wouldn't even have been noticeable at all, but then again, he was more attentive than most. (One too many encounters with Orcs could do that to a person.)

There was a sense of anticipation, and he automatically assumed it was because of the quest. Thorin sat to eat the soup they had saved him – some bread would have gone nicely with it, but he was sure that had vanished long before he even reached Hobbiton – and realized that their attention was divided, ever so slightly. It was just small glances to the dining room's entry every so often, from the miner, Bofur, and his kin. Though Thorin began to notice a glance to the hallway and a small wrinkle of the brow from Balin too, and that was odd indeed, considering the importance their conversation held. It was as if they were expecting someone else to walk in, but that could not be right. Everyone was already present.

Or, so Thorin believed.

The ever-mysterious Gandalf revealed a map that Thorin had been completely unaware existed, then continued to baffle him even further by producing the key to a hidden door which said map portrayed. That evening had simply been one surprise after another.

Bilbo Baggins was a link of that chain, for certain. Thorin was unsure of what he expected when a strange wizard told him that he already had a "Burglar" in mind for this mission. In hindsight, he should have asked more questions before agreeing to have their meeting at the Hobbit's home. The fact that it was a _Hobbit_ of all creatures should have given it away, besides, but it was much too late for that. The contract was brought forth and presented to Mister Baggins in a less-than-gracious way.

Their Burglar – though Thorin was loathe to call him such a thing – found himself growing increasingly ill at the thought of eradication via Dragon. Given, most would find the idea unappealing and would prefer to avoid a firedrake at all, if possible, but to actually faint? Thorin was… displeased, to say the least.

And thus, the night took yet another unexpected turn.

In stepped someone who Thorin immediately mistook for a young, heavyset boy. This was mostly due to the obscenely short hair though, for upon closer inspection, their attributes were much too soft to be male. She looked… squishy (for that was certainly the word that came to mind), and he realized the gender misconception was furthered by her baggy black coat. It made her already-small chest seem practically flat, while also doing her curved lower-half an injustice. Ignoring feet, she was too big to pass for a female Hobbit, she was too fragile and lacking in hair to pass for a Dwarf woman, and the thought of this girl having any relation to those willowy Elves was laughable. So Man it was, then.

When she finally looked his way, her face matched everything else – all round cheeks and wide, green eyes, though there were considerable dark circles beneath them. Her bottom lip had a tiny raw dot from obvious biting and her uncertainty in meeting his gaze spoke volumes about her confidence in this situation, despite her attempts to seem steadfast. These features combined with short stature made for quite a young image, and he would have guessed she was in her teens, although the ages of her kind were often hard to judge.

Forget Orcs or Wargs; this girl would not even survive an encounter with a raccoon, much less an actual foe.

Of course Thorin barred her from joining the expedition, for what sane man would not? Fifteenth member, indeed. This… _Miss Hollander_ would be dead before they even reached the halfway point, and his expectations for Mister Baggins weren't much better. What in Mahal's name was the wizard thinking? This was the most important undertaking of Thorin Oakenshield's entire life and here Gandalf was, offering up two of the most helpless creatures known to Middle Earth as additions to the Company. One of them unable to even speak, at that.

"That wizard's lost it," Dwalin grumbled, as they left the dining area behind.

Balin gave a slow nod, raising his eyebrows briefly while he sighed. "It's plain to see she's not from around here, but another world is reaching a tad far. Even for one of the Istari."

"Does it matter where she's from anyway?" Dwalin questioned. "Ye saw the lass. I'd give about two days before she's callin' it. Three if it's fair weather."

Thorin 'Hm'd in concurrence. They ambled through one of the warm halls as he said, "Gandalf has chosen his burglar, as was agreed. Involving the girl would be senseless."

"Aye. Much as I'd like to believe in books and their covers, I'm not sure it's worth such a risk to find out the contents," Balin surmised, coming to a stop. "She'll do well enough in the Shire. If there truly is nowhere else for her to go, this would be a safe place to start, I think."

Of the many existing lands, the home of the Hobbits was the most peaceful, by far. Thorin was sure Miss Hollander would find a way to either settle in Hobbiton, or make the trek to Bree some ways down the road if she decided upon it. A town of her own kind might have been more appropriate, but he knew Men did not view womenfolk as equals, and without a voice, the girl would be especially vulnerable there. However, the inhabitants of the Shire – while fussy and wary of outsiders – were not the violent sort.

That settled it for Thorin. Miss Hollander would survive just fine in Hobbiton, so there would be no reason whatsoever to bring her along. The Company's count would not include this young woman, they would leave on the morrow, and nothing could change his mind on this.

Nothing, certainly, except for a map.

Thorin was a difficult person to shock and generally took pride in that fact, so having his jaw slacken with surprise when he saw the tattoo was most annoying. Having her point it out with her eyes – however unconsciously – was even better. His expression was corrected with the discipline he'd learned over the years, but only just. Surely no one could begrudge him a dash of confusion at the scenario.

The first thought was of Gandalf. Obviously the tattoo was conjured with magic to sway Thorin's decision, though to what end, he wasn't sure. The extra sentence at the bottom of Miss Hollander's version of the map did not necessarily make sense for this theory either. If Gandalf wanted to get such a message across, he would have simply said it to Thorin's face – he was not shy about such things.

 _'If more of us valued food and song and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.'_ Kili described the statement as being 'oddly specific', and he was correct. Thorin felt something along his spine tingle. He did not like it.

The Grey Wizard persisted in his denial of any magic tricks, returning once again to his statement of the Valar having brought Miss Hollander there themselves. If it was true (and that was a colossal _IF_ ), then what were they hoping to achieve? What could this girl do, other than get herself or one of his Company killed? She was no fighter. Even a blind man could have seen that much. Had Mahal seen fit to send aid, then it would have been someone with skill and understanding of the world, not this inexperienced blip of a child.

Balin was right, though. This was more than coincidence. For Miss Hollander to be found, mere days before their congregation at Bag End? Days before a meeting that would mark the start of their journey to reclaim Erebor, the very kingdom depicted on her shoulder?

The Valar had a very twisted sense of humor, that much was certain.

For Thorin's home to be secured, then the map illustrating the secret entrance must also be – though for that, then Miss Hollander would have to be protected as well. As harmless as the Shire seemed, there was always the chance of her leaving and getting caught, or of some Halfling finding out and starting a gossip chain as long as Arda was wide. Leaving her behind was out of the question.

No… There was only one way to be absolutely positive the map stayed out of the wrong hands, and that was to bring her along. Thorin was not fond of the idea, nor were several others, but short of separating the arm from the person, there was no other choice. (He didn't feel that lobbing off a strange girl's arm would be very civil, no matter the reason.)

And _strange_ Miss Hollander undoubtedly was. They had set off that first early morning, without a Burglar, and she decided to bet with the rest of them that Mister Baggins would still join the party. Which he did.

Thorin didn't know how, but she _knew_. As soon as the Hobbit began sniffling and halted the Company to whine of forgotten handkerchiefs, she pulled one from her coat pocket. This in itself would not have been odd. The oddity came from the fact that it was initialed 'B.B.', obviously belonging to Bilbo Baggins. The owner of the handkerchief was just as surprised to see it, and Miss Hollander had a hard time keeping a smirk off of her face. She knew he would leave it behind. Her impish look wilted when Thorin pinned her with a stare of suspicion, giving the appearance of a child caught doing something they shouldn't.

Thorin would have to keep an eye on this one. Not only did she know of their quest, and obviously of the map and whatever secrets it held, but she showed her hand with the handkerchief incident as well. She was hiding something more and he _would_ find out what it was.

They made the right decision in bringing her along, however, as her injury spoke of a propensity towards getting herself in trouble. Knife wound of some kind, Oín told him later on, and bruising fingerprints on her wrist which had already begun to fade. Bofur didn't know the origins either, only that she had needed help and as per his nature, provided it, so Thorin could only wonder what happened.

The young woman was decently polite, if a bit meek. She was more comfortable around the Ur family (which was expected, considering), and around Fili and Kili (also expected, given their openness). She did show some spark of attitude around them which mostly stayed behind common courtesy when Thorin was involved. _Mostly_ being the key word. There were no signs of true hostility or antagonism however, so likely whatever trouble she ran into beforehand was not of her own instigation.

This assumption was further proved when he met the ones accountable.

Honestly, Thorin tried to avoid the settlements of Men if at all possible, though as a leader this was not always a viable option. Their stop in Bree was only sensible – they still had need for some supplies they were unable to purchase elsewhere, and Miss Hollander was sorely underprepared. Bofur was happy to lend her a blanket, those first few days on the road, but she would need more than just that for this quest.

Fili and Kili would have gladly helped Miss Hollander to buy what was needed. However, he was not sure how far their knowledge of… _female requirements_ reached. Thorin had travelled with their mother, his younger sister, Dís, enough times to know the true horror of a woman angered by lack of necessities. Dís had always been very straightforward and more informative than perhaps he would have liked, but it was just as well. Miss Hollander had no way of explaining these needs, and Thorin did not particularly feel like giving a talk better left to Dís, so he sent Balin to assist instead. A simple resolution.

Simple until, of course, a terrified Miss Hollander came dashing through the streets of Bree, no Balin in sight. The reason for this panic made itself known shortly after, as two furious Men appeared in dogged pursuit behind her. Bofur and Bifur did not hesitate to put themselves between Miss Hollander and the unfamiliar pair, already quite defensive of the girl they had pulled from a river.

When first the trouble arrived, Thorin had truly been set to call for the arm-lobbing option – it had only been a few days since they started out, and already she had attracted unnecessary attention. He was absolutely livid, without question.

As soon as the younger, fair haired Man opened his mouth however, Thorin found himself siding with Miss Hollander on the matter. Insulting his entire race, right from the get go. In addition, the eldest of the two strangers was not only disrespectful, but radiated treachery; the kind that suggested he'd sold out a family member for a loaf of bread at some point in his life.

The intent behind a chase of this kind could only be malicious, and while Thorin did not want an altercation at the very beginning of his quest, he could not simply allow these men to achieve whatever goal they had in mind. Miss Hollander was horrid at controlling her expressions, thankfully, allowing Thorin to see just how shaken she was by the ordeal. He was still rather furious at her for bringing such a mess upon them, but could not lay blame for the idiocy of Men solely on the girl. He had to agree with Bofur. Miss Hollander likely dealt the injuries in self-defense.

As their confrontation dissolved into an argument, Thorin let the statement fly that she was part of the Company. The moment the words left his mouth, he hoped she wouldn't read too much into them. While she was technically travelling _with_ the Company, he still was not sure where she landed on the membership scale, or if he even wanted her to land on it at all. This thought was quickly drowned by the turmoil trying to erupt.

Thorin was having a difficult time keeping his anger in check, and just as he was convinced Dwalin, Bifur, and Gloín would pummel these brainless oafs into a fine powder (he wasn't sure if he would have stopped them, really), the Wizard showed up.

The two Men eventually chose to back down, recognizing that they were outmatched. The eldest one's parting words to himself and Miss Hollander left a bad taste in his mouth, and though he did not believe them to be any real threat, he knew not to underestimate anything that could jeopardize the quest. The thought of the expedition being in danger from something so infinitesimal made his irritation rise.

The girl cowed down as she always did, though managed to explain how her arm came to be injured, and why she was found in a river to begin with. Self-defense had been the correct guess on their part. Self-defense, and extreme measures to escape. Thorin found his frustration with her dwindling and, regardless of who the blame landed on, knew she would have to be watched more carefully as the label of 'trouble magnet' proved accurate.

The idea to test her writing skills came when Balin subtly relayed the information to him about her journaling supplies. Gandalf wanted to meet with them for this test, though he did not think writing would be possible for the girl. Not from any fault in her literacy levels, but from the Valar's intervention, and unfortunately, he was correct. Thorin did not miss the message she attempted to form, following the quill's movement and making out the first few of her snarky words with surprise at her attitude. She likely would not have wrote such a sarcastic thing had she known he could still read it. The rest was jibberish, however, with this method of communication just as inconvenient as her poor attempts at mouthing words. (It made him wonder as to what accent would make her pronounce things the way she tried to.)

Already having had enough trouble in Bree, and with no desire for further interruption, Thorin decided that Miss Hollander would room with him that evening. He was even more unsure of her age after that, seeing as how one moment she was acting as carefree as Kili and the next, she appeared as though the sky might collapse with some invisible stress she was under. Her naivety combined with this weighty aura was puzzling.

While he knew sleep would be near impossible for him that night, it seemed as though Miss Hollander was having the same difficulty. Likely for different reasons, but it would certainly explain the dark circles she wore, if this was a regular occurrence.

 _Where had she come from?_ Thorin did not truly believe she was from another world entirely. Though she was strange, with her brightly colored bag and her clothing made of strange material, and holding herself differently than any woman he'd encountered, there was no possible way for her to be a resident of any other place. There was a map of The Lonely Mountain on her shoulder. There was only _one_ Lonely Mountain, unless he was terribly mistaken.

Eventually, the girl dozed off, allowing him a brief, light sleep. Brief and light described most of his sleeping, really, but come morning, this let him wake before the others and begin rousing everyone to depart.

Miss Hollander was sleeping so soundly, he was sure nothing could wake her. She must have been exhausted, obviously unused to any sort of travel, so he allowed her a few extra minutes of sleep, since this would be the last chance for her to do so, while he placed his sword and his battle axe back onto his person. Once they were on the road again, he would not be so lax.

Thorin only left her for a moment, trudging downstairs to make arrangements for the Company's breakfast. Of course, it was within that moment that Bofur woke Bombur none-too-gently, causing a massive thud to resonate within The Prancing Pony as he rolled from his bed in surprise. Thorin knew if that did not disturb Miss Hollander's slumber, then he would have to do so himself.

He made his way back upstairs after dealing with the food situation, making a mental note to collect the youngest Ri brother's writing tools at the same time, and was abruptly reminded of one of the many reasons why having a female in this Company was a bad idea.

Females required different rules. One of those rules being: always knock.

He did not knock.

Miss Hollander was awake, yes, but… she was also missing her shirt.

Well, no, it wasn't missing. It was lying on the bed, as she had obviously been in the middle of something, but that was hardly what drew his attention. Her arms were crossed over her small breasts in such a way that unwittingly squished them together, and it was… incredibly distracting. Thorin was correct in the assumption that her baggy clothing disguised most of her curves; some of those curves being the actual slope of her hips and some of them being tiny rolls on her sides that pudged out just above her waistband.

The girl's mouth was slightly open in what would have been a warning, could she only speak, and her face was nearly the same color as the small image of Smaug on her shoulder. That was about when Thorin remembered the map, and of course, who exactly he had been ogling. Not to mention the fact that he still hadn't the slightest clue how old she was, making him feel twice as terrible for even the small glance he did catch, though he managed to rip his gaze away and vacate the premises all the same.

Miss Hollander would likely be embarrassed with any interaction they had for some time, so he allowed her space. Having her clam up due to this incident would not help him garner any new information. She was already a nervous person, and while she did have her outspoken – so to speak… _figuratively_ – moments, most would be bashful after such an encounter. He was not so keen to meet with her again anytime soon either, but he chose not to admit that.

Fili and Kili were eager when he told them to watch over Miss Hollander as they travelled. They were interested in this odd newcomer just as the rest of the Company was, but had fewer inhibitions about befriending outsiders. Thorin knew how his nephews worked. He knew their strengths laid in softening hearts and this task would kill two birds with one stone – quelling Fili and Kili's curiosity about the girl, and causing her to relax her guard. Disguising the task as 'guard duty' managed to double as a confidence boost for the young Dwarves. That was an amusing plus.

It really could have been anyone who walked in and saw that tattoo, however. Thorin realized the secrets of his quest were not being guarded as carefully as he would have hoped, and became exasperated once again at whatever the Valar had planned by throwing this girl into the mix. They must certainly be unwell to allow someone so careless to bear his grandfather's map.

 _Who was she? Why her? Why not one of Durin's folk, at least?_

None of it made sense.

The questions that Thorin posed later that night only served in muddying the waters. If anything, the mystery surrounding Miss Hollander's tattoo worsened, and he began to wonder if she was not misleading him somehow. None of her answers lined up with any sort of continuity. Deception was not her strong suit, and though he had no idea what kind of purpose lying about the map would achieve, something needed to change. Soon.

As Thorin told the Halfling their story afterward, something peculiar happened. He realized Miss Hollander was only partially paying attention to his words. Strangely, the rest of her attention was on Master Baggins, watching his reactions expectantly as each part of the tale came around. Smaug's initial siege, Thranduil's disregard for their misery, the Dwarves of Erebor surviving only on their strength of will. She looked to the Hobbit right before an event was voiced, as if she already knew where each word was leading, the same way she knew to quiet his rambling about Elves.

But _how?_ How did she know of this?

After nearly knocking herself out on a tree the next evening ( _Mahal help them_ ), Miss Hollander vowed that her answers bore no falsity. She performed an odd pledge by linking her smallest finger with his, assuring him that the truth would be known, though when or how was not clear. Without even being able to verbalize it, she seemed to beg for his trust on the matter, eyes wide and reflective of the honesty she was trying to express. Her face was an open book. While her vow's ritual was flimsy and seemed childish, however, he dared to hope she was actually there to help them.

This made everything that much more complicated.

Going by her (metaphorical) word, she was apparently telling the truth – from a world with no Dwarves, yet on her body held a map of his homeland. Knew of the hostility between Elven kind and his own, and of Erebor's downfall, though had never met a Dwarf and had only been in their world but nigh on a week. Worse, she gave her promise that no other Dwarves had been involved.

When Thorin first realized the implications behind her tattoo, a small hope rose in his chest at the thought that maybe, just _maybe_ Miss Hollander was the answer to finding his father, but that hope grew further and further away. She tried to keep composed when asked about other Dwarves and, while he received no information on Thrain, she did wind up introducing a giveaway of hers.

Tiny lines, in the dark circles beneath her eyes, signaled the tension in her face. These lines had appeared when he asked her why she was sent on this quest, and they appeared once more, as she shook her head in response to his inquiry of a previous Dwarf. Thorin was not yet sure what their significance was, but these lines meant something.

Later, Bofur approached them with an idea so outlandish that he was sure Balin would keel over at such a suggestion. To teach an outsider any part of their language system, to share their secrets with what amounted to a complete stranger? Thorin had not known her for very long and Bofur only just a few days ahead, so at first this idea appeared to be lunacy. It went against everything they knew about keeping their culture secret.

However, their situation was not ordinary by any means. Thorin stared at Miss Hollander as he weighed this option, and she stared right back while trying to puzzle out what they were saying, unconsciously worrying at her sleeves again. (Another tell of her nervousness, though hardly a specific one – she was almost _always_ nervous.)

"I won't say it's never been done before, because I know it has," Balin pointed out, "But with much more deliberation and consultation on the matter."

Thorin took his gaze from the girl, and back to the two before him. "We do not have time for deliberation, Balin. If she can tell us what that map says, we must know before we reach Erebor, and teaching the Iglishmêk will be a lengthy task. Though…" he paused thoughtfully, taking a look around the camp, "consultation may still be offered."

"Consultation from who, exactly? If ye don't mind my asking," Bofur said. "We've just got the Company out here."

"Then the Company must be enough," stated Thorin, becoming more and more sure of this decision.

"These things are normally dealt with by a council, not just what's on hand. From what I've seen of Miss Hollander, I don't believe the lass would be one to abuse the privilege, but…" Balin trailed off while giving him a look of concern.

Thorin knew where his friend's worries laid at that point, and merely answered, "Should there be fallout from this, I will deal with it myself when the time comes."

Balin put his hands back on his hips, knowing there was potential for dissent from other Dwarven clans without the proper arrangements. The likelihood was slim, but it was never a bad thing to be cautious where their traditions were concerned, and this warning was reasonable. Eventually though, he sighed and nodded, "Aye, alright. We shall put it to a vote then, I'd imagine?"

And so they did.

Thorin understood Dwalin's hesitance, and Dori's as well. If there were any other choice, such a thing would not even be in consideration, but that map was of utmost importance. Even if they had not needed the information from the runes – which he now knew she was capable of providing – then there was still the mystery of how she came to have this tattoo in the first place.

Miss Hollander needed a proper means of communication. Given that the Valar were set upon making their lives as complicated as possible, the Iglishmêk was their only option.

The young woman was genuinely astounded when Thorin delivered the news of what she was to learn. Blinking several times, her mouth came open as her head bobbed backwards a little, showing that she obviously knew just how significant this was. He was correct once more in regards to her innate, impossible knowledge of Dwarves. (He did not rule out the possibility that she really was a witch and just didn't know it yet.)

"Balin will be your teacher," Thorin told her, "though you will learn more quickly by practicing with others as well."

Bofur nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ye'll have plenty of help in that area. At first the language was for us miners to speak over the noise of excavatin', ye see, but it's developed long past that for those who need it – like our Bifur! He's been relyin' on the Iglishmêk for years. Helps him speak in complete thoughts when his tongue don't work right."

A smile was slowly forming on Miss Hollander's face, after the initial shock wore off. He wasn't sure if he had seen her smile this big up until now, he realized, as he watched her chubby cheeks push her eyes into the shape of tiny crescent moons. The isolation of her silence had obviously been getting to her, and the prospect of being able to converse brought her great relief.

She glanced to Bofur and he grinned right back, then she turned to Thorin as well, mouthing, _'Thank you.'_

This relief was contagious, it seemed. He felt himself relax the slightest amount and gave a small dip of his chin as acknowledgement. The decision had been made.

Of course, this decision didn't solve _all_ of their problems.

Thorin watched from afar the next morning as Balin began the first of the lessons over breakfast. The older Dwarf seemed to realize there was an issue with the teaching style when Miss Hollander's face gradually became more and more befuddled, until her upper lip was curled and her brows were at different levels.

Clearly they didn't account for the origins of the Iglishmêk. It came from Khuzdul, incorporating the symbols of their writing and the organization of their words, which were much different from that of Common Speech. Balin was forced to switch tactics, going for a more fragmented approach. While this was slower, it was more effective, and would allow her to at least get a foothold on the sign language until she could better understand how it worked.

Miss Hollander was giving a genuine effort to learn, though, and that was all he could ask.

The basics were set out for her. Upon Balin's request, Ori even drew up a small sheet of hand positions and their corresponding sounds in Common Speech for her to study. Given, only a few of the signs had simple enough translations for this to be possible without the Khuzdul middleman, but their scribe accomplished more than most would have. He was a bright young thing, and they were grateful for his enthusiastic involvement.

The available time to practice per day was despairingly short, and in an effort to keep the lessons going, they attempted while travelling. Unfortunately, the girl had neither the balance nor experience to ride a pony without keeping her hands on the reigns to steer. This seemed to upset her a decent amount, a sharp decline in her mood apparent for several days after. However, Thorin had a hunch that it went deeper than just the slow Iglishmêk progress, but said nothing towards the topic.

He caught Miss Hollander studying the sheet of hand signs one night while the others dozed off, apparently trying to make up for the time lost on the road. While Thorin was not technically on watch duty, he often woke several times per evening, and this happened to be one of those times.

She chewed on her lip as she studied, unaware of how much she was nibbling until a tiny dot of blood came forth. Thorin watched with amusement as a scowl appeared on her face when she tasted it. Dabbing a finger at her lip, she sighed before wiping it away and continuing to pour over the notes.

Her focus was palpable. The girl was putting effort into this, and whether that was simply because she wanted to speak, or because she wanted to explain certain things to him was unclear. Both, he hoped. If her promise was anything to be counted upon, then her effort was appreciated, for that meant answers were growing closer.

Patience was key. It truly was the only thing that could help him in this.

About the third evening after their resolution concerning the Iglishmek, Miss Hollander was acting rather skittish when they halted to set up camp. They chose a clearing nestled at the edge of a cliff, with a wall of mountain beside it, and forestry surrounding the remaining two sides. The light of the setting sun showed off the vast expanse of land below them, though it was mostly just trees and dipping valleys.

Thorin gave the word and dismounted, the others following his lead. When he glanced back to make sure all were present and accounted for, he noticed the green eyes of their only female were quite larger than usual. Her gaze darted around the clearing, as if the area was unsettling to her. Mahal only knew what it could have been. Her brows were furrowed and then suddenly they weren't, her mouth popping open to form a tiny 'oh', like one does when they remember something.

There wasn't much time to contemplate the meaning of this expression, as it fell away into a smile of familiarity when she was addressed by Balin, and the two settled off to the side of camp to resume their lessons. Ori was brought over to make further notes on any particularly important details for Miss Hollander, and Thorin left them to it, awaiting dinner as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.

* * *

 _Screeching. The disturbing shouts of creatures best left in the dark._

" _What was that?"_

 _They were here. Why were they here?_

" _Orcs."_

 _He needs his sword. Why is not in his hand?_

"Orcs?!"

Thorin opened his eyes to quickly sit forward, heartbeat thumping painfully. The rock he dozed on was still at his back, most of the Company still sleeping peacefully, and there were no enemies that he could see.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there," Fili said from beside the campfire, as he sat smoking his pipe. "The lowlands are crawling with them."

Gradually, Thorin's pulse returned to normal as he realized what was happening, and sighed deeply in exasperation at his nephews. The sounds he heard were not just part of his nightmare, but were obviously too far away to be concerned about. Balin was awake, as was Gandalf, and had it been a real threat, they would have roused them.

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili explained in a hushed tone. He was sat beside his brother, trying to spook the Halfling, of course. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Master Baggins looked thoroughly worried at this point, picking his way across the camp to them, and Thorin expected Miss Hollander to have a similar look. Despite her obvious fatigue, she was still awake, seated on Kili's other side next to the warmth of the fire. There was no fear or any sort of concern though, exasperation showing through in its place when Kili started to snicker at his joke, and she gave a light back-hand to his arm with a sour face. The young prince seemed startled and a bit betrayed by her lack of amusement at his humor.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin stood, finally speaking up as he came closer to the group. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" he questioned, irritation flaring.

Fili and Kili had the decency to look ashamed. One would hope so, at the very least. Even Miss Hollander understood this was not a subject to be taken lightly, and she'd probably never seen an Orc in her entire life. Thorin thought his sister-sons, of all people, would know better.

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili tried to amend, lowering his gaze.

"No. You didn't," Thorin snapped. "You know nothing of the world."

Aggravated, the Dwarf King trudged away from them. Beside the drop-off at the edge of their clearing, he stopped to calm himself, looking out over the valley below. He loved the boys dearly, but moments like this reminded him just how young they actually were. They had not experienced the same horrors, and though he wished they never would, he knew better than to hope for such a peaceful life for them. They did not understand how easy it was to lose everything at a moment's notice.

"Don't mind him, laddie," he heard Balin say, trying to alleviate the tension. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

He assumed this anecdote was a good reminder to Fili and Kili, even if he did not particularly want to hear it. Perhaps it was because he did not speak of it often enough, that those two could take an Orc attack so lightly, and that was his own fault. If anyone should be aware of such things, it was his heir. Dís may have told them stories, but she had a tendency to leave out the more gruesome aspects of these tales. Her need to coddle would never fully dissipate, and that required Thorin to be the stricter of them, to balance out the influences in their lives. If the world was different… perhaps he could have afforded some lenience.

Balin's words drifted across the campsite. Hands going cold, Thorin remembered the battlefield where last he saw his father and grandfather, where he last saw his brother, where he realized the world was not yet through with its brutality. His life was drastically altered once more when that pale _monster_ …

 _Sweat stung his eyes as he realized what Azog was holding. He couldn't breathe. Thror had been there moments ago, slicing through Orcs with the same fervor as any true descendent of Durin. This wasn't happening. They should never have done this. They should have…_

 _His metal shield was thrown from his grip with the force of the attack, his arm stinging, and the world spun as he tumbled. This Orc was stronger than the others, so much stronger. He was going to die. But he couldn't. He couldn't, not yet. Not yet. He needed time, he needed a way to protect himself, protect his people. Protect…_

 _The horrid scream. An arm hit the ground, noise lost amidst the cries of its former host. The murky blood of their kind spilling, so much of it, he knew Azog could not possibly survive this. The rest of the Orcs swarmed to retrieve their injured leader, pull him back to the darkness. The kingdom would not be reclaimed, but Thorin felt a renewal of purpose. Much was lost, but not all. There was still hope for those left. They fought onward upon his war cry, rallying one more time…_

 _After so long, after so much. The ground nearly invisible from the litter of bodies. More than he believed possible. Some recognizable, familiar faces he had spoken to a mere day ago, some sooner than that. Brave, kind Frerin, lost. Gone, like their father. Where was Thrain? How would he tell his sister that their family was gone? They were gone…_

"We few had survived," Balin resumed, the memory difficult for him as well.

Thorin swallowed hard. It had been many years since then, but no less painful to remember. Now was not the time, though, to let himself fall to pieces. Not now, not ever.

There was a long pause from Balin, before he concluded, voice full of admiration, "And I thought to myself then: 'There is one who I could follow. There is one… I could call King.'"

Thorin felt a bittersweet mixture of pride swell at this faith in him. He turned back to face their campsite again, having heard the stirring of others. The entirety of the Company, in fact, had awoken in time to hear of his actions at the Battle of Azanulbizar. They were simply the actions of one trying to survive. They were not heroic, they were necessary, and yet the others now looked upon him with the same awe and respect that Balin had relayed in those finishing words. Perhaps he would never quite understand it, but he would accept it with the grace of a leader all the same.

Making his way back into camp, Thorin passed each member of his Company, reminded once again that they chose to put their lives on the line for this quest. They believed in this mission, as they believed in his leadership. He could not afford to let them down.

Kili was looking upon Thorin with wide eyes, full of emotion and regret for his joke, and while Fili was trying to maintain a strong façade, there was no doubt he was just as moved. Maybe this would be a reminder for them.

"And the pale Orc?" inquired Master Baggins, from his seat taken to listen to Balin's tale. "What happened to him?"

 _Only the Halfling._

"He slunk back to the hole whence he came," Thorin responded severely as he walked past. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

He proceeded on, headed back towards the boulder he had previously dozed against. Sleep would not come easy after being woken in such a way, but he would have to try, for a sleep-deprived King was hardly what this group needed.

On his way, he caught a glance of Miss Hollander, fiddling with her sleeves again as she stared into the campfire. When he looked over, she met his gaze with a face full of trepidation, seeming faintly startled. Her hands froze upon her sleeves, as though she had not wanted to make eye contact with him, but had accidentally nonetheless, and he noticed those lines were there. Those tiny lines, lingering in the dark hues beneath her eyes.

 _What did they mean?_

* * *

 ** _And that's it, folks! That's the last of it until I can get the next chapters written. It may be a while, but please be patient with me. Everybody's got a life, even if all we really want to do is write fanfiction. LoL!_**

 ** _I plan on dispersing these Thorin chapters pretty evenly, but I wanted to get the story really going before I put in this first one. Let me know if it felt Thorin-y enough, or if there was something in particular you enjoyed seeing from his perspective, or just anything in general!_**

 ** _As always, thank you from the depths of my heart~!_**

 ** _Until next time, whenever that may be! :)_**


	14. The Language

_**Hey guys! I'm sorry I haven't replied to your reviews yet (do you guys care if I reply? lol it haunts me), but I wanted to get this chapter up. In light of the absolute shitstorm that is the US election, I thought I'd go ahead with an update. Not super polished, but if nothing else, it can be a distraction from the chaos for a minute.**_

 _ **:)**_

 _ **Thank you all! Enjoy!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Learning the Iglishmêk might have been a tad easier if it was based in, oh, I don't know, _the Common Tongue._

Of course it couldn't be that simple. It was based in _Khuzdul_ , the language of the Dwarves, which I had exactly zero knowledge of. Well, no, that wasn't true. I did know 'Du Bekar' and 'Amrâlimê', but that was hardly a sturdy foundation to build from unless you planned on battling your lover.

Even if it had worked like normal Sign Language back home, I still wouldn't have been able to just start jabbering right away. Learning the Iglishmêk out of the blue required me to skip the middle step of learning Khuzdul, and that hindered progress significantly. We simply didn't have the time – or patience – to teach me their entire language system beforehand. Plus, while they were willing to dole out lessons on Iglishmêk, I didn't figure they would be so quick where Khuzdul was concerned.

"Now remember, keep your hand tilted – aye, like that," Balin instructed one afternoon at lunch, as we sat on a big flat rock that was half buried in the ground. We'd been at the Iglishmêk game for nearly a week, and of the few things I learned, one of them was that my hand could cramp in ways I never imagined.

I followed through with the tiny motion, combining it with a stepping stone I was taught the day before. Together, it allowed me to say, _'Tree.'_ Just, _'Tree.'_ Nothing else.

At this rate, I might be capable of saying, _'Look out,'_ right before the impaling began at Ravenhill.

"It's only been a few days since we started, lass. Give yourself a chance," said Balin, taking note of my suddenly glum disposition. "I know it's difficult, but you're doing well given the circumstances."

I forced a deep breath, exhaling slowly and beginning again as the rest of the Company finished up their lunch. Balin was right. I was being too cynical too quickly. It had barely been five days since I began learning and for most of that time, we were riding ponies, unable to really continue the lessons. (While Balin could chill on a pony without using his hands, I was not half as decent a rider and nearly led Stormy right into a creek when we tried. She was… not happy with my guidance.)

It was about time to leave again when Balin was called away by Gloín, so I stood from the rock and stretched a bit. Roughly a day after we started my tutoring on Iglishmêk, an odd feeling had been hovering just underneath my skin, making me weary and yet restless. Whatever it was came in waves, giving me emotional whiplash.

For the first time since this whole thing began, I considered that maybe I was homesick.

Why on Earth would I ever be homesick though? Aside from Hazel and a few friendly coworkers, there wasn't anyone I was terribly attached to, and even though I could desperately use an IV drip of pure internet, I knew I could live without it. I mean, I _really_ missed the internet, but there wasn't much for it. My mother had basically fallen off the face of the planet except when she wanted something, and my aunt… I did miss _her_ , but I wouldn't find her by going back home.

Thinking about these things just made me agitated with myself – _dammit, Jenna, you're in Middle fucking Earth! About a million fangirls would gladly trade places with you!_ – but I knew refusing to accept these feelings of melancholy towards home would just make me more unstable. Which I could do without, thanks.

Don't get me wrong, the Ur family had been a gift from above and I was so glad to have them around. I already felt like Bofur understood me better than most back home, and I couldn't even speak here. Bombur didn't say very much himself, so we were mutual on that front, and Bifur… well, he spoke, it just didn't always make a lot of sense. Even to the ones who understood the language.

The problem was, I could feel the beginnings of affection towards these guys and that terrified me. Only the beginnings, mind you, but I knew my patterns of attachment well enough. Though I was already fond of the characters before all this, getting to know them for real was a different feeling entirely. Like when a friend talks about someone a lot and makes them seem one way, then you meet them yourself and realize you actually didn't know a thing about them, despite the stories you heard.

Not only was my sprouting affection aimed at the Ur family, but also at Fili and Kili, and Bilbo, and surprisingly Oín, who had been taking such good care of my wound. I had been interacting with Balin a lot more lately, for obvious reasons, and he was just as friendly.

And Thorin… Bless him, I knew he was trying to be patient, even if it didn't always work. With him, I couldn't tell if I was actually growing attached or if I was just getting used to his grim demeanor, therefore becoming less nervous around him. He had put a pause on the questions while I began learning Iglishmêk, but I could tell he wasn't going to stop them in general. I just knew he was gearing up for the day when I would be able to form a sentence and explain myself though.

Sure looking forward to _that_ drama.

The more I realized I didn't mind being around these dorks, the more I realized the weight of everything. If this trend of amity continued – if I became actual, genuine friends with Fili and Kili, or even Thorin if hell decided to freeze over – then what would happen if I failed? How would I even begin to forgive myself? The idea left me ill at my stomach, lunch threatening to make a bad comeback.

 _No, no, you've got this, Jenna. Just calm down and don't throw up. You have time._

That was about when I noticed Nori, meandering my way in a ridiculously relaxed manner. Honestly, he looked like he should've been whistling some sort of upbeat little ditty, and it pulled me from my thoughts.

I was curious as to what he could want. Our interactions had been limited to greetings and acknowledgements so far, and no real substance to whatever was said. Mostly just 'Good morning's and 'Hello there's from him, with nods and waves from me, so this random approach was weird. It was a distraction from my twisted stomach though, so I welcomed it.

"How's it going so far?" Nori asked, nonchalantly.

All I could muster was a shrug and a look of uncertainty, glancing over to where Balin had gone.

"Iglishmêk is a toughy for sure," Nori continued as he looked in the same direction. "Took me ages. Lil' Ori got it in no time flat, though. Languages are his thing, ya see, not mine."

I nodded, wondering where he was taking this. It seemed… normal enough, I guess.

He suddenly looked thoughtful, fiddling with his middle beard braid. "He'd be amazed if… Here, let me just teach you a greeting, eh? They'll all think it's remarkable ya got it so quick."

Honestly, I should have known better. This one was all on me.

Nori made a small combination of figures with his hands, one at a time, until I mimicked them just right. It took a few tries, but he seemed pretty interested in helping – God, again. It was so obvious, I don't know how I didn't know what he was up to.

"There you go. I think you've got it," he approved with a nod, putting a hand on my shoulder and gently shoving me in the direction of Ori with a wink. "Now, go try it out with Ori. They're gonna love it."

It was only about then that I thought maybe, just maybe he was pulling a prank of some kind. For some reason I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and hesitantly walked over to where Ori was. The scribe had just readjusted his scarf, preparing his pony with Fili and Kili close by, doing the same with their own steeds. I nodded to them and waved a little, and they nodded back as Fili pulled out a water skin to get a quick drink before we left.

"Hello, Miss Jenna," Ori addressed me kindly.

I smiled to him, and repeated the gestures that Nori taught me, for my own greeting.

The reaction was immediate.

There was a gurgling noise as Fili choked on his water, falling into a coughing fit while Kili smacked him on the back, looking between us all with a mildly concerned expression, like he was trying to figure out what happened.

Ori, however, turned bright red all the way to his ears. And I do mean _red_.

"M-Miss Jenna, I… why… what do you mean…?!" he sputtered.

Uh… _What the hell did I just say?_ My face heated up too as I glanced around in confusion.

Nori, from halfway across the camp, absolutely lost his shit. He started laughing so hard that I genuinely worried he would not get enough oxygen to his brain, and we might have to retake Erebor with one less member. The guy doubled over with his hands on his knees, practically in tears.

This combination of a choking prince and a guffawing Dwarf attracted quite a bit of attention from those who had not already seen my… greeting. Bombur had seen, of course, and informed his sibling with a heavy blush. Bofur's eyebrows rose straight up into his hat, and he was instantly pulling off his boot and chucking it at the hysterical Ri brother's head.

"Oi! There'll be none of that now!" Bofur scolded. The boot merely bounced off the mass of star-shaped hair and fell to the ground, where Nori was now sitting as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was grand though, you've gotta admit! Did you see Ori's lil face?" Nori teased. "Redder than any ruby out there."

Ori had seemed to calm down a bit, realizing that I had no idea what I said and obviously didn't mean whatever it was. He took a deep breath, relieved as he turned his head away with leftover embarrassment.

"Don't matter, ye dirty oaf," Bofur said as stomped over to retrieve his boot. He picked it up, using it to half-heartedly swat Nori once more, who pushed it away with his arm in a playful manner. "Shouldn't be takin' advantage of the lass trying to learn. She don't have need for language like that."

Nori chuckled again as he stood. "Well, she _might_ have need, eventually. She's grown, can make decisions and such."

Oh God. My face was still on fire, especially now that I was gathering clues as to what I might have said. It obviously included themes of the adult variety and I almost didn't want to know. I glanced to Kili for answers, but he seemed just as lost, and Fili wouldn't even look at me, the tips of his ears red. Did Kili not get what was said or…?

Gandalf was just shaking his head, putting out his pipe for the time being, while Bilbo was looking around at the group for answers as well. The Company was just in various states of embarrassment, really. Especially Dori, who promptly came over to Nori and began harping on him about indecency around women, to which the younger of the two rolled his eyes and threw up his hands at, telling him it was just a joke.

I finally spotted Thorin, who was… also, very specifically, not looking in my direction. His pony's mane had just become incredibly interesting to him all of the sudden.

 _Please let a tree fall on me right about now._

"She's obviously just a child," Dori continued. "I swear you haven't a brain most days."

Nori seemed to be bored then, and looked over to me like he already knew the answer to his next question, nearly sighing. "What's your age, miss?"

I hesitated, but eventually raised my hands and let my fingers lift up and back down til they had cycled twice, and then held up one extra finger.

"Twenty-one years?" Kili asked, eyes large. "Only _twenty-one_? That's not even a third my age!"

"That's grown for them, Kee," Fili told his brother with a slightly scratchy voice from his coughing fit, though he appeared less embarrassed to make eye contact with me then. "They don't live as long as us."

Kili stared at Fili for a moment, glancing to me for confirmation on this. I shrugged with a short nod, and he suddenly appeared distraught, asking the other prince further questions on this topic as the rest of the group returned to the previous page.

Nori was nodding as he said, "Thank you, young Fili." Then he turned back to Dori, saying, "Perfectly acceptable age for a woman of Men."

Dori was still unhappy about it, and looked between us all with a huff. "That's fine and all, but the poor girl doesn't even know what she said," he pointed out, and his expression changed into one of smugness. "Why don't you tell her, Nori?"

"Erm… tell her?" Nori echoed with sudden worry. I didn't know I was glaring at that point, but I was, so when he met my stare, he was unexpectedly shy about the whole ordeal. He feigned ignorance with an additional, "Tell her what?"

"Tell Miss Hollander what ye made her say to Ori," Bofur agreed. "If ye're too ashamed to tell her, then..."

Dori stepped forward with his hands on his hips, saying, "Maybe we should just do it instead, since it's obviously so difficult to admit what you've – "

"Oh, alright, alright!" Nori gave in with a cringe, stepping a bit closer to me. Well, I say stepping. It was more like a painfully awkward shuffle, and I soon understood why.

My arms were crossed as I waited, simultaneously wanting to know, yet also _not_ wanting to.

Nori finally stopped dragging his feet, and gave a sheepish grin as he mumbled, "You see… what you might've suggested was…"

 _Oh._

 _My._

 _God._

My mouth popped open and stayed like that before the words sank in, the utter humiliation causing my teeth to clack back together as I sucked in a breath through them. I let my hands flail in front of me with no real force, slapping at Nori's arms as he put them up in defense and laughed. Giving one last good smack to his shoulder, I huffed through my nose and scowled at him with a red face.

"A'right, I'm sorry, I get the message," Nori gave in, still looking much too amused. "Deserved a tad better than that, though. Could've mistaken it for a light breeze."

"By all means, let me do the honors. I've another boot over here that needs to be put to good use," Bofur said while slipping the one he threw back onto his foot.

"Hold your horses, oh noble guardian," snickered Nori in response. He looked a bit thoughtful, then turned back to me and braced himself in friendly antagonism. "Try that one more time."

I paused in my fuming to blink a few times, giving a worried look. Awkwardly and amazingly slow, I reached out and gave his forearm a gentle pat, causing him to appear dumbfounded when he realized I was just playing and didn't really want to participate in a tussle of any kind.

"What – what was _that?_ " Nori gaped.

I just stared, my hands falling to my sides limply.

His posture shifted and his arms dropped as well, with disappointment. "C'mon now, they said you broke a fella's nose. Did you or were they just yankin' our legs?"

As I gave a slow nod, my nose scrunched up. That situation had been entirely different though.

"Well, then, why aren't you givin' a respectable swing?" Nori complained.

I shook my head rapidly while bringing my shoulders up to show my discomfort at the thought of whopping him. Dwarves were a rowdy bunch, but generally, I was not.

"It'd be nothin' compared to the shiner Dori gave me once," he said nonchalantly, taking a step back when he accepted I wasn't going to do anything. "Deserved that one too, actually."

"I'm sure you deserved quite a few more than you've gotten," Dori put in while crossing his arms. The younger sibling only scoffed and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, facing me to say something else, but being interrupted.

"We've delayed long enough," Thorin sharply announced from atop his pony, having trotted over during the discussion.

I nodded in agreement with this and turned to go mount Stormy. From several yards away, I could still hear Kili questioning his brother frantically about the aging of Men, apparently just now getting the news that my kind did not age like trees.

Nori seemed disappointed, but he had already conceded before the interference. "A'right, fine," he sighed, then became upbeat once more, suggesting, "But one of these days, you show me what you've got, eh?"

My frown increased in a comical manner as I positioned myself on the saddle, giving one more sporadic head shake.

"Birâthûna akhalul zain," I heard Bifur say.

Pretty much everyone was back on their pony at that point as we set off again, and Bofur laughed at whatever his cousin said, glancing over to me. "Aye, that she is."

"Unfortunately," Nori sighed as he passed us by.

Bofur said lightly to him, "That's not a bad thing."

When I tilted my head in question, he only chuckled and rode away.

Such translate. Many helpful. _Wow. Never thought I'd miss memes…_

* * *

It wasn't the last time I heard the word _'Birâthûna',_ though it was only around then that I started actually noticing the use of it.

Bifur said it again, when we settled one evening a few nights later. He was zoned out, fiddling with some medium-sized twig he'd found earlier as he sat by the fire, and the rest of the Company was getting ready to sleep. There was no move to grab his bedroll or anything and I knew he wasn't on watch duty. Bofur was about to stand and go get the sleeping gear for him, but I was already up so I waved a hand at the Miner, telling him to chill and let me to do it. It wouldn't be the first time Bifur forgot what the heck we were doing.

Bofur watched with a slight smile as I retrieved the bedroll and lugged it over to his cousin. As I placed it down beside him, Bifur sat up a little straighter, blinking a few times at what I had brought him.

"Dolzekh menu, Birâthûna," he said with a nod, giving the bundle a pat.

I smiled awkwardly, returning the nod, unsure of what he said but still getting the general gist. Er, I thought, anyway.

A mental notch was made the next day, when I heard him use the word again, and then there was a day when _Bofur_ used it, after I dropped my water bottle and had to watch it roll down a small hill. I caught the tail end of the conversation after retrieving my water, but it wasn't enough for me to piece together the 'Birâthûna' mystery. The whole thing made me endlessly curious.

The next time I heard it after that, though, the situation was a little more embarrassing.

Maintaining my hygiene was tricky while on the road with fifteen males. It was simple for them, because they could just run off, wash up, and it was whatever. I, on the other hand, had the setback of being unable to call for help if something went wrong. Plus, I was pretty sure Thorin still didn't trust me to be alone and not bring back another set of racist morons. I don't know who exactly I would bring back out here except for Smokey the Bear, but it was fine. The goal, in the end, was keeping me (or rather, the map) safe, so I didn't argue. Not that I could have, unless I wanted to call him a tree.

Basically, I just wound up with a group of paranoid Dwarves who said they would check on me if I wasn't back in fifteen minutes.

This normally wouldn't have been a problem. I would just hop on out to the creek, or the stream, or whatever we happened to be passing when they decided it was time to bathe, and scrub up with my beloved lavender soap. The average wilderness bath would only last about five minutes for me, honestly. I couldn't shave my legs or my pits, much to my disgust, and I didn't care to spend more time than I had to in the nude, in the middle of nowhere, so the bathing was a lot shorter than it would have been at home. (I realized simple things like this were additional fuel to my burgeoning homesickness, and knew then that I would never take a warm bath for granted ever again.)

We stopped at about midday, a little earlier than we would for our standard lunch. Everyone picked up this indicator of what we'd be doing, so half the guys broke off to go bathe, and half of them stayed to set up camp. Bofur usually dragged Bilbo along with the second group, though the Hobbit seemed to be the only other one who shared my sentiments on birthday suits and wilderness. And Gandalf… I'm not really sure if he bathed. I never saw him leave to do so, anyway, but surely to goodness he took one every now and then.

Regardless, I preferred to go after everyone else, because of one simple reason: wildlife.

Once the Dwarves got through stomping around and splashing all over the place, there usually weren't any snakes or raccoons – or anything, really – left hanging around the water. On this day, naturally, I waited until all were finished so I wouldn't have to reenact an episode of _Naked and Afraid_.

There was a vast abundance of brambles between this particular creek and our campsite. I nearly got caught up several times on the way to bathe, thankfully managing the small trek without too many scratches, in the end. My routine of washing ensued quickly, so that I could hurry up and get out of the chilly, waist-high water. It may have been the middle of spring, but that didn't mean squat, especially since they didn't have global warming in Middle Earth.

I slipped my clothes back on, though honestly they needed a good washing too, and started back towards camp. That was about when I felt the tickle of an invisible spider web string against my face as I unwittingly walked through it. I sputtered for a moment, stopping to swat the webbing off my nose and mouth, only to see the eight-legged little resident floating half an inch in front of my face. A breeze kicked in and pushed the web he was hanging onto towards me, and in my panic I took several hasty steps in reverse…

Only to trip, and fall flat on my back into one of those bramble bushes.

Immediately I was cringing and gasping at the stinging sensation, as I tried to roll off of my bum, where the worst of the barbs were. Of course, my pants became properly caught up, tiny strings being pulled by each thorn they came in contact with. Then I was panicking because the more I maneuvered, the more I was getting poked by these demon spikes, and it was beginning to actually hurt quite a bit. Not to mention it was really mucking up my clothing.

I felt like an idiot, but I really couldn't get my pants un-stuck while I was in them. So, to save myself from further imitating a pincushion, I kicked off my boots and wriggled out of my sweatpants, then set to work trying to free my clothing.

That was how Dwalin found me, several minutes later. No pants, crouched down beside this damn shrub, meticulously picking my britches out of it.

Perfect.

Thankfully my hoodie was long enough to cover most of my neon pink panties, but I was so far past caring by the time he came around, it wouldn't have mattered. There was a rustling, and I looked over in time to see him push his way through the foliage and freeze, taking in the scene. My hands paused in their workings and I simply looked at him from my position on the forest floor. Not quite glaring, but not quite stoic, I maintained a surprisingly calm exterior.

It took a moment for Dwalin to figure out why in the world I didn't have any pants on, eyes flicking to the brambles, then back to me. He was not usually caught off guard. In the matter of 'constant vigilance', he was nearly as bad as Thorin, so when he finally registered what fresh idiocy I had brought upon myself, he was… amused.

Dwalin's bushy brows pulled together and his lips were in a tight line as he started shaking his head and looked down to his boots. When his shoulders began shuddering a bit, the sound of suppressed snickers through gritted teeth finally reached my ears.

He didn't even say anything. He just kept shaking his head and turned right back around, passing through the shrubbery and back to camp. About five seconds later, as soon as he was out of sight, those snickers evolved into a gruff laughter, slightly muffled by distance and forestry.

I sighed, glaring at my trapped pants. At least he was laughing, I supposed.

There was a waiting period as Dwalin composed himself, and I listened as questions were asked, none of them really legible. Then I heard Bifur's voice, though lord knows what he said.

That was when I struggled to hear through the rustling of the trees, Dwalin replying, "Aye, she's fine, alright. Yer _Birâthûna_ might need some assistance before it's all said and done, though."

There was that word again. _'Birâthûna.'_ He pronounced it like it was a title, but almost mockingly, like he didn't particularly understand or care for it. Come to think of it, I realized then that the other times were in reference to me as well. Had I been… _nicknamed?_

I didn't get to think on this for too long, because another conversation started, and the wind finally stopped rustling the leaves enough for me to hear.

"And just where do ye think you're going, lad?" Dwalin asked.

Kili was obviously trying very hard not to laugh when he answered, "I want to see if it's as bad as you say it is."

I slapped my hands over my face. _Dammit, Kili._

"Did ye miss the part where he said she hasn't any pants on?" Bofur questioned.

There was a long pause. Within half a minute, they were all bickering about decency and allowing me some privacy while I figured it out on my own, while some just said to send Dwalin to help me since he'd already seen it. That was followed by an argument about the amount of time they gave me, and whether it should be adjusted, and then there was something about enabling me if they helped, and it just dissolved into nonsense.

I was tired of my poor fingers being stabbed by these thorns and my cares about indecency had fled in the wake of my impatience. With a scowl, I stood and removed my hoodie, tying it around my waist. It wasn't complete coverage and most of my thighs were still visible in the front, but all the important neon of my panties was hidden, so I slipped my boots back on and trudged towards camp to find a knife or something.

As soon as I came through the trees, the debate on how to handle the situation died on their mouths. I was glad Dori had been sitting, or he might have keeled over, and Ori was the only one who flat-out covered his eyes, though Bilbo's hands fluttered up around his face like he wanted to. In the end, he just settled for ducking his head. Most of the others just averted their gaze, surprised by the fact that I was willing to stomp out there with no pants.

There were a few that, while uncomfortable, were able to pay attention as I attempted to sign what I required. Unfortunately, one of them was Thorin (damn his composed maturity), and it made me incredibly aware of my pudgy thighs and the fact that I hadn't shaved since at least a week before I came to Middle Earth. Not that hairy legs were unfamiliar to Dwarves or anything, but it felt… deeply wrong.

 _'Need cut,'_ I said, cringing at my cave-man level language skills and my dwindling burst of confidence. Signing with Balin was one thing, but signing in front of everyone – with no pants on, wet hair sticking out every which way from when I bathed – was a horse of a different color. _'Cut. Tool.'_ Oh my god, how do you sign 'knife'?

Dwalin was still smirking, like he couldn't quite get rid of the image of me trying to free my clothing from a plant, and my lips scrunched together in embarrassment.

From off to the side, Fili approached with slight hesitation, while trying not to laugh. I was the one who barged into camp half-dressed, but he was acting as if he were breaking some rule by being within ten feet of me. That didn't stop it from being funny, apparently, as Kili was smothering a few giggles as well, some steps behind his brother. The whole thing was just terribly awkward and everyone recognized that.

Fili pulled a small knife from his coat, and handed it over with the handle facing me. "I suppose you'll be needing this, Miss Jenna?" he asked, pretending like he hadn't been chuckling moments earlier.

I nodded slowly, discomfort just slithering off me in waves as I took the proffered blade. I got what I came for, hanging my head so as not to meet anyone's eyes before I made my escape, and shuffled back into the green curtain of the forest.

There was a small surgery performed on my pants, extracting them from the prickly bush without completely wrecking them. A few strings were jank, but they came loose and still looked like pants, so I counted it as a win despite the fuss it caused.

Coming back to camp was the worst. Even after I had replaced all articles of clothing back to their rightful places on my body, the damage had been done. Bofur was one of many left with a face of amusement and I glared at him half-heartedly as I returned, but he merely laughed at my disgruntlement.

"What? Wasn't gonna say a word," he told me with a smile.

I shook my head and ignored him, heading towards Fili to give him back the knife. The young princes were the definition of cheeky upon my arrival and I almost wanted to just set the knife down and run away. Far, far away.

"I hope this is not a habit of yours?" Fili partially asked as he took the blade, sheathing it in a tiny pocket inside his coat.

At that, I truly did narrow my eyes in warning.

Fili was still grinning when he gave an apologetic look that was almost a wince, though Kili was unabashedly entertained as he said, "Should we be on guard for treacherous plants from now on? Only for our lady's wellbeing, of course."

My nostrils flared as I huffed in fake, exaggerated annoyance, crossing my arms. I couldn't help the smile that played at my lips, however, as these two dorks continued their shenanigans.

"Perhaps we should create a signal? A warning for Miss Jenna, when we catch sight of a particularly ominous tree," Fili joked. I rolled my eyes, uncrossing my arms to give him a light shove.

Kili snickered, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulder. "Now now, we wouldn't want to be a _thorn_ in her side, brother," he said, poorly suppressing another laugh at his own hilarity.

On that note, my hand flew to my face of its own accord with a resounding smack. _Dammit, Kili._

There was an accompanying round of chuckles from Bofur, who was a few yards away helping to pack up from lunch. He threw in one of his own, grinning, "Lads, for your own safety, ye might want to _leaf_ her alone for a while."

I stared at him, astounded, which only caused him and the princes to hoot even more. _There was no escape from puns, not even in Middle Earth!_

"Come on now, we've all heard that one before," Kili said to Bofur. "Try to _branch_ out a little."

While they were distracted with cracking up again, a spur of the moment decision emboldened me. I licked my finger and side-stepped over to Kili, sticking said finger into his ear quickly. Of course, just like it worked on Bilbo, it worked on him as well. I was two for two.

Kili's hand flew up and rubbed at the victimized ear as he made a distressed groan, turning to see me standing there with a mischievous grin plastered on my face. He tried to play disgusted, but wound up smiling anyway as his expression morphed into a teasing scowl.

"You enjoy doing that much too often," Kili said with a shake of his head, as if he could throw off the feeling left in his ear.

I smirked at his accusation. I'd _only_ given two wet-willies so far, thank you kindly. I felt lighter than I had in a while at that point though, and I realized that day's events were helping to pull me out of my funk. Embarrassing? Totally. But was it worth it, in order to banter with these nerds at the end? Yes.

After a pleasant lull in the conversation, there was a sudden jabbering in Khuzdul, and we looked over to see Bifur heading our direction. I gave a curious look to Bofur, who was listening intently as his cousin bypassed him. Whatever it was that Bifur said caused Bofur to nod, raising his eyebrows in agreement with the words as he glanced down at something Bifur was holding. I couldn't see what the thing was, Bifur's hand motions being too quick and brief, and I only understood simple bits like _'the'_ and _'at'._

My skill in Iglishmêk was absolutely awe-inspiring.

Before I knew it, Bifur was standing before Fili, Kili, and myself, holding out a small, wooden, cylindrical object.

It was a little longer than my index finger, and a little wider. There was a hole in the top and on each end were two smaller holes, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it was a whistle. An extended bit at the end had a hole whittled through, and in it looped a lengthy cord of leather, tied together to effectively turn it into a necklace.

I stared at it for way too long, glancing between Bifur and the whistle.

"Khajam," he said, jutting his hand forward more. "Jalâkhrum mahtash'mariya."

There was a long moment of blinking involved before anyone said anything.

"He wants you to take it, as a gift," Kili said, seeming slightly surprised, but genuinely happy for me.

Bofur nodded, joining us beside his cousin. From his tone, I could tell he hadn't any idea that Bifur was making such a thing for me, as he said with amazed eagerness, "Aye, in case ye run into any real trouble or we get separated, just call. We'll be there in a jiffy. Quite a clever idea, Bifur..."

Suddenly I remembered the other night, when I brought Bifur's sleeping gear to him. He'd been messing around with a stick the perfect size to make this with. Had he been working on it since then?

I met Bifur's gaze and he nodded again in reassurance, so I gingerly took the offered whistle. The object was surprisingly smooth as I turned it over in my hands, though the smoothness was interrupted by an intricate carving on one side. I ran my fingers over it, realizing they were tiny runes, and my brows furrowed with interest at the symbols.

"Birâthûna."

My eyes snapped up to Bifur's upon hearing that word once more. _What…?_

"Birâthûna essentially means 'Girl of the Map'," Fili provided from beside me, gesturing vaguely to my shoulder.

My eyebrows rose a bit and my mouth popped open in understanding, a silent 'oh' having formed. That made sense.

"Bifur thought it suited you. Been callin' ye that since the Company set off," Bofur informed me.

It took a second to really sink in. This was… _really super sweet, holy shit, guys._ My heart felt like it might explode at how thoughtful it was of Bifur to make something like this, specifically for me, to call for help if I needed it. I even had a nickname engraved on it? Like, how was I supposed to function?

There was an exclamation from Bifur, making the others chuckle. Kili was the one who finally said, "Go on, he wants you to try it out."

I pushed back the emotions bubbling in my chest in order to cast a quick look around. The rest of the Company was either watching or at least partially aware of what was happening in our corner, so I wasn't too worried about scaring anyone.

It crossed my mind, when my eyes scanned over Thorin, that he might be adverse to me having an object with Khuzdul on it. He had been eyeing the whole interaction as per usual – like a suspicious, paranoid bird of prey – and didn't appear too keen on the engraving. It also crossed my mind that I didn't really give a flying fuck, because this whistle was _a super thoughtful gift, dammit._

A short, astoundingly loud _TWEEE_ rang out. Fili and Kili flinched, being the closest ones to me, with Bofur and Bifur following suit. I gave an excited snuffle of a giggle, lowering the noise-maker from my lips.

Bofur laughed, saying, "Works pretty well, if ye ask me."

With that statement Bifur looked quite proud, and I grinned at him once more. I slipped the leather cord over my head, the whistle resting on my chest, and attempted a very rough signing of _'Thank you'_. Though my hands moved torturously slow and I probably butchered it, Bifur got the message all the same, satisfaction in his eyes as he nodded.

Warmth gathered in my chest at all of it. I felt like things were looking up, like things could really be changed with these guys on my side. Even though my Iglishmêk wasn't that great yet, I felt like they understood me. I felt welcome. Like the future was –

 _Blegh!_

My hand immediately came up to my ear as I used my hoodie sleeve to wipe off what I knew was saliva. That is, if Kili's howling was anything to go by. I whipped around to see the youngest prince attempt to collect himself in time to speak as I glared at him.

"Two can play at this game, Miss Jenna," he cautioned with a bubble of laughter.

Fili was looking much too smug as well, chiming in, "Only two?"

My eyes shot back and forth between them, realizing what kind of a war I had started. Off to the side, I noticed Dwalin shake his head and give the heaviest of sighs as he overheard our buffoonery.

"When you least expect it, we'll be there," Kili said, raising a finger to make his point.

I could only smile at the absolutely disgusting game I had just initiated.

Oh, it was _on._

* * *

 _ **Probably one of my less polished chapters, and not much Thorin in this one, but rest assured he returns in the next for more interaction with our Jenna. ;D**_

 _ **Thoughts on this chapter? Still enjoying? What part did you like most? Be sure to let me know! I will never get tired of hearing from my dear readers. You are all rays of beautiful sunshine and you light up my life. Seriously. I'm allowed to be corny for a minute!**_

 _ **Agh, thank you all so much! Stay safe, be brave, and as always - until next time!**_

* * *

 **Birâthûna akhalul zain - Girl-of-the-Map is a peaceful female. _Sort of._**

 **Dolzekh menu – Thank you**

 **Khajam - Gift**

 **Jalâkhrum mahtash'mariya - Call us to protect you.**


	15. The Spill

**_Here we are! Finally another chapter, and let me tell you, this one is a MONSTER. Longest chapter so far, I think? But holy crap, you guys! This fic has reached over 200 faves! Like what?! YOU GUYS ARE SO COOL. THANK YOU SO MUCH!_**

 ** _Anyway, some replies:_**

 _ **To**_ **Guest** _ **(Nov. 10): I'm glad it made you laugh! :D**_

 _ **To**_ **Real Life Walker** _ **: Wow, sounds like your life is quite busy. Four hours of sleep a night? Here's to hoping you get more rest soon, love! Thank you for your kind words.**_

 _ **To**_ **Megan VR** _ **: Haha Nori is so much fun to write. Heck, they're all fun to write! lol**_

 _ **To**_ **Tmntfan4ever** _ **(Chp. 7 &11): I'm glad you found it somewhat enjoyable in the end! **_

_**And another massive thank you to everyone who reviewed!**_

 _ **Onward! :)**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

I inhaled my dinner so my Iglishmêk lessons could resume, surprising Balin, who was only halfway through his own food. I wanted _so_ badly to be able to talk to people again. Sure, some of it was difficult to sign, but when it's the only way to converse, you find a determination within yourself to soak up the information.

He gave a small chuckle and said, "Don't you worry, Miss Hollander. We'll have plenty of time for tonight's lesson. _After_ I've put away my stew."

 _'Good,'_ I signed, quite proud of myself for the one little word. This amused him, and he gave me a smiling nod, confirming that I had done it correctly.

Content that he would let me know when he finished his dinner, I wandered over to see if there was anything Bofur and Bombur needed help with. By that point, I had kind of figured out their routine of how they passed out food, collected dishes, cleaned dishes, etc. It was pretty simple stuff. I figured if there was something I could do to contribute and not screw up, it would be that.

Everyone else had duties they swapped around – keeping watch at night, collecting firewood, keeping the fire going, tending the ponies, making sure said ponies eat normally and don't show signs of illness or injury, hunting down meat for the stew, cooking said stew… There was just a lot of upkeep involved in this little adventure, and I felt guilty that I wasn't adding anything to the mix.

Bofur realized I had scooted up next to him as he was collecting dishes from a few of the Company who had already finished. With my own empty bowl in one hand, I motioned with the other that I could take a few for him.

"Oh, ye don't have to do that, lass. I've got it," Bofur said kindly.

I frowned at this. Again, I motioned, but with more purpose. _I want to be useful, dammit._

He seemed to understand my furrowed brows and slightly pouty lip well enough. "Aye, alright then," he agreed, handing me some of the dirty bowls, if a bit hesitantly. "I'll be over in a moment to help with the rest, but mind ye watch out for snakes and the like."

I nodded gladly, piling the dishes in my arms and heading off towards the nearby creek. The illumination provided by the campfire was just barely out of range for my needs, but the moon was out. Though it was waning, its light was still usable, if a bit weak.

The little stream was chilly on my hands as I submerged the first of the bowls. An easy enough job, really. Rinsing, grabbing another, rinsing… Different from regular dishwashing, since in the modern world I could use hot water and not lose feeling in my fingers, but hey. At least there was water at all.

On the opposite side of the stream, there were trees. There were only one or two on our side, but across the water was yet another woodsy area. A lot of those here, honestly, so I didn't think much of it until the snap of a twig reached my ears.

My breath hitched as I looked up and froze, wide eyes scanning the forest line. Crouched by the burbling water, I listened, trying to discern anything in the darkness, and after a moment, I realized I had stopped breathing all together. I forced myself to inhale again so I wouldn't pass out face first in the water (that would be a great way for the Dwarves to find me). My free hand rose to grip the whistle hanging around my neck, its existence reassuring as I angled it towards my mouth.

I couldn't see anything but the shadowy plants, waving in the breeze. _Just the breeze. Just plants… Just… Had it really been a plant before? Did I mess something up? Were the Orcs already here?!_

"Miss – "

I jumped to my feet and spun around quickly in surprise, a dish full of water in my hand. The water went flying from the bowl, splashing onto the one who startled me, but it wasn't Bofur like I expected.

"…Hollander," he finished belatedly, face dripping wet.

It was Thorin.

I clutched the empty bowl to my chest like a tiny steering wheel, letting the whistle plop back down on my chest. Of course, after not having a solid conversation with me for half a week, it was just my luck that he would choose tonight to talk!

 _'Sorry,'_ I mouthed sheepishly, not having learned the sign combination for that particular phrase. With my consistent need for it, that should have been the _first_ thing I learned.

A droplet fell from the tip of Thorin's sharp nose before he slowly reached up, wiping a hand down his face, and slinging the excess water off his hand. Part of his hair was still wet, though, and most of his beard. He blinked a few times before finally meeting my eyes, and I genuinely couldn't tell if he was mad or not.

"Remind me to announce my presence more thoroughly next time," Thorin merely said, in response to my apology. His face gave nothing away, but his voice was more like thick hot chocolate and less like distant thunder, so I took this as a good sign.

After the small heart attack, I could only sigh and nod. My arms lowered from their defensive position and I gave a wary peek to the row of trees as an afterthought, realizing that I never figured out where the sound came from. It hadn't been Thorin, I knew. That was the wrong direction entirely.

He caught this glance, following my gaze to the dark forest. When he couldn't figure out why I was looking, or why I was so tense in the first place, he made eye contact with me again. A slightly downward angle of his chin and a gentle lift of his brows were all he needed to ask me what was wrong.

I suddenly felt like I was being a paranoid fraidy-cat, and I wound up giving a shrug, ducking and shaking my head in embarrassment. I was being stupid. I just wasn't used to being outside, was all.

"Caution has been my ally for many years," said Thorin gravely. "Do not hesitate to let us know of suspicions."

 _Oh._ I stared at him worriedly for a long moment as I thought about it. This was just me, being green and afraid of the dark, and I didn't want to piss him off by giving false alarms. I was still fixated on the idea that I might mess up the timeline or cause something that would end the entire quest and doom Middle Earth, so every little thing had me on edge.

The Dwarf King shifted his weight and angled one shoulder closer to me. It was more of a communication than a movement of comfort, telling me to explain my uneasiness, and I realized I was getting better at reading body language. That, or I was an idiot and he was simply readjusting his leg.

 _Just the wildlife. Don't be stupid, city girl._

The tension in my body seeped away gradually, knowing I was just an inexperienced traveler. I shook my head with a half-hearted smile, embarrassed at my paranoia, playing with the bowl in my hands.

Thorin considered me before looking to the trees again. He spent one more long moment examining the wall of shrubbery and branches, in the careful, measured way of one who was used to being a target. It made me wish he could take a vacation.

He gave a low "hm", facing me with a look that said he wasn't buying it, but would go along with my denial anyway.

Since my twig scare, I didn't want to be by the woods anymore than we had to be. Thorin seemed to share the sentiment about the trees having ears, as I noticed him glance back to the greenery one more time with narrowed eyes, and there was an unspoken agreement that where we were standing felt oddly exposed after our exchange. I quickly finished up the last bowl I had been washing before the interruption, and then gathered the few now-clean dishes I was given responsibility of and we migrated back towards the outer part of camp.

Bofur had indeed gotten distracted by Nori's nonsense again, so it was just as well that Thorin came over to me when he did. I noticed that Dori had his hands over poor Ori's ears, while the young Dwarf tried to paw them away to hear what was being said.

"So then he tells me, 'I don't know about you, but I think that story's kinda hard to swallow!'" Nori laughed. Bofur was hooting along too, finding whatever punch line this was to be hilarious, and Fili and Kili were in similar states of mirth.

That is, right until they noticed Thorin and I had returned.

Whether it was because I was a female, or because Thorin was the universal buzz-killer, I'm not sure, but those who were caught up in the joke froze. The laughter died to a few awkward coughs as they straightened themselves up – well, Bofur, Fili, and Kili did. Nori, on the other hand, still had a little bit of a chuckle emanating from him. On the opposite side of the campfire, Balin was shaking his head and beside him, Dwalin was sharing a look with Thorin that spoke of his desire to hit someone. Maybe just Nori.

I could only roll my eyes at their notions of propriety. I had definitely been exposed to way worse stuff back home, so their effort at politeness was about nine years too late. However, if their abrupt silence was because of Thorin, I suppose I could understand not wanting to laugh at a BJ story in front of your King and/or Uncle, but he was a grown-ass man. Surely he'd heard his fair share of stories, or… experienced… his own? _Had he ever…?_

The thought of Thorin in the same context as that topic made my face burn, and it slowly melded to other imaginings. _Oh my God, Jenna, no! Get rid of that image!_

Bofur cleared his throat, standing from the spot he had obviously plopped down on to catch his breath during the merriment. "I can take those, lass," he said awkwardly.

I'd forgotten about the bowls in my arms and handed them over so he could put them away, glad he pulled me out of wherever the hell my mind was going. He grabbed a few more of the dirty dishes after that, and began making his way to the creek, humming a little bit.

Nori tried to skitter away on his trail without taking the remainder of the bowls. Bombur was about to do it, but since Nori was going anyway, I picked up the bowls myself and scooted over into his way before he could make his escape. The Ri brother seemed startled at my sudden appearance in front of him. I simply gave a wide, overly sweet grin, passing the dirty dishes off to him before he could object.

"Ach, what… eh, fine, a'right," Nori groaned with a slump of his shoulders.

 _That's what you get for pranking me and Ori,_ I thought, watching him shuffle on towards a chuckling Bofur, who had stopped to watch the exchange.

I looked around for a moment until I located Thorin again. He'd moved slightly, further off to the side where the ponies were chillin', but he was obviously waiting for me to return. I remembered that he was the one who sought me out by the creek, and I figured there was a reason for it, so I obliged.

Making my way around a big cluster of bags, I reached him and paused. I glanced over at Balin momentarily, as I recalled his words of our lesson for the evening, though when I caught his eyes he just gave me an encouraging smile and turned back to talk to Dwalin again. I supposed that was a go-ahead, since we had been on the tutoring basically every possible waking moment. We'd get back to the Iglishmêk later.

Thorin didn't make any motion to sit, so neither did I. There wasn't really a spot for it, honestly, so I just waited patiently for him to bring up what it was he wanted to talk about. Probably more questions of the map related kind. More stress, more interrogating, more of me spiraling into anxiety land, etc.

Inside, I was basically praying Thorin wouldn't say anything about the other night, when the story was told of why he hated Orcs so much and how he earned the title 'Oakenshield'. And, of course, when my poker face continued its trend of being absolute shite.

Actually being there and seeing Thorin wake so abruptly at the mention Orcs upset me more than I thought it would. Just watching it on film, it's amusing when Bilbo is getting all scared over the teasing of Fili and Kili. Having seen the images of what Thorin went through, however, made me a little mad at the two princes for doing such a thing around those who had battled Orcs. I did not miss Dwalin waking shortly after Thorin, to sit there for a moment with the same look on his face. While Balin was more patient, and willing to explain, I could still tell how much it bothered him, too.

This, on top of what I knew about Azog, caused me to grow uncomfortable. Thorin thought the maniac who killed his grandfather was dead. He thought vengeance had already been served, that the Pale Orc had bled to death after that arm popped off like a ripe tomato.

Meanwhile, there I was, chilling by the campfire knowing that this was a lie. I had tried so hard to keep my face down, staring into the flames so no one could see anything that might give it away. Especially Thorin. He was so observant, and he was only getting better at reading me as time went on. (The big, fat downside to communicating with your face during most conversations – people understand your expressions too well after so much practice.)

Of course, I looked up from the fire at the wrong time, to see if Thorin had walked past enough for me to risk moving my gaze. Such a mistake. I hadn't expected him to pause right in the middle of his trek, just to meet my eyes and notice how tense I was. Like an idiot, I stopped breathing because I wasn't prepared to face him. Thorin saw this. He saw this, drew his brows downward slightly, and said nothing as he moved on back to his boulder.

I had already made a promise. If he asked about the subject, about my odd reaction… I wasn't going to lie. I couldn't. Part of me screamed, _but consequences!_ Then the other half of me would scream, _but you made a promise to Thorin Oakenshield, you dumb pickle!_

Goddamn morals.

I inhaled deeply, pushing these thoughts away. If – _when_ – the question came, that's when I would worry.

I had relaxed somewhat by that point and looked over to him in anticipation, but I didn't feel as nervous as those first few nights. A big contributing factor was the change in his demeanor. It was less harsh, somehow. Still grim and ever-serious, but not irritated by my mere presence anymore. I think he was starting to realize that, while I was an unknown variable, I was also about as threatening as a bag of Cheetos.

Finally, Thorin turned to address me. Right when he seemed ready to talk though, a remaining drop of water travelled down his forehead and gathered at the end of his nose, causing me to purse my lips and stifle a lurch of a giggle. The air managed to create an uncomely snort regardless of my muteness, and I smacked a hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

Apparently this was amusing, and I watched with fascination as his fuzzy face conformed to a minor smile. The little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appeared, ever so faintly, and all of a sudden I realized my new goal in life was to get a true grin out of him one day. To see those little wrinkles at maximum happy.

Thorin gave a small twist of his head, throwing the drop from his nose, and about twenty more from various strands of hair. "Truly, I only came to ask after your progress with the Iglishmêk," he told me, face returning to its usual set. "Balin says you're doing well."

I gave a sheepish half-smile, shrugging while playing with my sleeves. Accepting even the smallest of praise was not my strong suite. This didn't mean I wasn't happy with it.

Thorin raised his hands just the slightest, and I watched, borderline enthralled, as he signed in the Iglishmêk. _'Show me what you have learned,'_ he requested slowly.

It took me a good long moment to process what he said, since it was a little advanced for me yet, but the low speed at which he signed was extremely helpful. As soon as it sunk in, though, I knew I couldn't resist. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, and struggled so hard to keep a straight face as I signed what Nori had showed me the other day.

Immediately, Thorin inhaled sharply and looked away as if I were topless again, scowling as he ground out, " _Aside_ from that, Miss Hollander."

The smirk that rose to my face could be fought no longer. Well, what I said was technically true, at least where Thorin was concerned, because hot damn. Who _wouldn't_ want to do that with him?

"I would thank you to refrain from saying that yet again," he said, slightly disturbed that I was even willing to repeat it after the earlier fiasco. It took him a good few seconds before he allowed our eyes to meet again. "Now, if you do not mind."

I fought to control the mischievous grin at his reaction, but managed to beat it down with a bit of willpower. Recalling the gestures I had been taught so far, I signed a few combinations that would eventually lead to actual words, once we reached that part of the lessons. The small collection of full words that I'd gotten down was despairingly toddler-esque and probably made Gollum look like a fucking scholar.

My unimpressive group of words was signed for Thorin, along with the clusters of other word parts. Balin was a patient teacher, thank all that is holy, or I would never have gotten even those gestures right. Dwarf hand proportions were just different enough to make the Iglishmêk a challenge for humans to copy, and it made me want to shove my head under a pony's hoof more than once.

Thorin gave a small nod when it became clear that I was done signing for him. After that, the air quickly dissolved into awkward silence between us as we observed the others, though it wasn't unbearable by any means. Hopefully this meant I was right and Thorin really was getting used to my presence. And maybe picking up on the fact that I didn't want to shank him in his sleep or anything.

The camp was quiet without Nori and Bofur, though not completely, of course. Fili and Kili were conversing lightly, as were Gloín and Balin. Oín was leaning into his brother's discussion using his ear trumpet, scowling and correcting whatever they said with pointed finger.

Upon seeing the healer, I reached up and began to fiddle absent mindedly with my stitches through the hole in my sleeve. They were due to come out any time, Oín told me that morning, so I was looking forward to that. Some part of me hoped it would only scar a little bit, but then the other half of me wanted it to scar horrendously and give me some spice. This led me to briefly wonder how many scars I would actually get on the trip (though if my first day in Middle Earth was any indication, followed by my stunt with the prickly shrubs that left me incredibly scratched up, probably about thirty).

Thorin had his arms clasped behind his back, as seemed to be his favorite stance. While my mind drifted, he took a slow, long breath before exhaling rather abruptly, a signal that could only mean one thing for me.

I stopped playing with my stitches and gradually dropped my hands, shoving them into my hoodie pocket with a corresponding sigh to give the go-ahead – not that he needed one. Questions would be asked regardless.

"Was the tattoo of your own choosing, or the decision of another?" he asked.

I pulled a hand from my pocket, patting my chest twice before slipping it back in. The whole thing felt almost… casual. Chatting about tattoos with an exiled Dwarf King. Yeah. Perfectly normal.

Thorin glanced over to me briefly and I felt myself grow warm when I noticed his eyes travel down to my boots then back up. I wondered what the hell he was looking at, when he questioned with an unexpected tone of partial jest, "Are there any others we should be made aware of?"

Abruptly, I felt relieved, but also like a dumbass. For a moment, I thought… Pfft. Wow. It made me want to laugh. _Of course Thorin Oakenshield was_ not _checking you out, Jenna. Calm your tits._

Coming back from this thought, I quickly shook my head in answer. Neither money nor time allowed me to get another tattoo before being warped into this medieval clusterfuck of intrigue, though it was a good point on his part. For all they knew, I could've been hiding a tattoo of Gandalf on my left arse cheek.

The subject made me curious though, and I lifted my eyebrows while gesturing vaguely in his direction. I wasn't sure if the question was clear, as he stared at me momentarily with a frown, so I patted my own ink, motioning towards his entire body again with wider spread fingers. In addition, I signed, _'You?'_

"That is not of concern," Thorin deflected with a downward chin tilt and a serious look.

I gave a pout that bordered on duck-face, scrunching my eyebrows together. _Spoil-sport._

When my consternation refused to die down and I kept frowning in his direction with mock-upset, I swear he almost rolled his eyes when he gave in. Almost. He was simply too majestic to do such a silly thing, but he did sigh heavily to make up for the lack of eye-rolling.

Thorin answered wryly as he exhaled, "There are a few."

I raised my eyebrows again with a smile of surprise creeping onto my face. Oh-ho-ho. Our dear King Under the Mountain had some tattoos? If anything, this just made me twice as curious as I had been before.

"This is not about my own," he said, derailing the questions he knew were bouncing around in my head. "This is about yours."

Well that didn't mean I couldn't be excited. Honestly, though I'd probably never see the tattoos themselves, I still learned something new. Thorin shared something! With me, the potato child! Learning the Iglishmêk was an honor and all, but learning about someone as reserved as Thorin felt like a big deal too.

Thorin could tell my brain was still stuck on the information he had shared, so he began moving the conversation along once more, remarking, "You knew of Middle Earth before ever you came here."

Not really a question, but it sobered me up a little and I nodded out of habit.

"So why is it that we know nothing of _your_ world?" he asked quieter, mostly to the air. That was way too complicated to answer, and it seemed more like he was brainstorming at this point anyway, so I let him continue without response. Thorin glanced at my shoulder and said, almost skeptically, "Did the Valar grant you knowledge of our history, somehow, before your arrival?"

I'm sure in a roundabout way, it could have been considered an act of the Valar to have _The Hobbit_ published on Earth, but no. I shook my head. It wasn't really.

A moment of contemplation took over. During the pause, we heard Bofur laugh loudly from his spot at the creek, and I glanced back at the two Dwarves doing dishes, but they were too far away to discern actions. There were splashing noises involved. Thorin was not super concerned by their antics, though, keeping his attention right where it was.

"Are you the only one who knew of Middle Earth?" he questioned, focusing me back on the conversation.

My eyes widened for a second and a nervous laugh almost bubbled up, though I pushed it down, shaking my head rapidly. Not by a _long_ shot. At least, in the sense that people had heard of it before. Even though they were familiar with _Lord of the Rings_ , I doubted my coworkers knew Tolkien's universe was just a magical zap away.

"How many others knew?" he asked.

I thought for a second on what words I could sign. Finally, I settled for, _'Many.'_ It wasn't _wrong_ , per say.

This answer caused Thorin's reservations about my whole involvement to seep through again. He seemed on edge once more, despite the earlier amity, and I realized that yeah, my response was probably unsettling to him. The idea of another world existing, and them knowing about yours, but you had no idea there was even another one out there to begin with?

Our conversation was skirting on some dangerous territory, man.

Thorin's stance shifted and he angled towards me, crossing his arms in front of himself instead of behind. A confrontational, stubborn pose that wasn't quite a warning anymore, but it wasn't exactly a sign of welcoming yet either.

"In your homeland… were others aware of your tattoo?" he questioned. "Of my grandfather's map?"

Already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer, I nodded carefully, measuring his reaction. Of course, the thought of anyone knowing anything about his super secret quest was automatically displeasing to him, so it was no wonder he scowled. As if it wasn't bad enough that _I_ knew.

"Did they know of its significance?" Thorin asked, gaining back a little volume. "Did they, too, know of our history, while no Dwarves exist there?"

I gave a tiny nod. This was making me nervous again.

He stared at me for a long time, probably trying to decide if I was simply crazy or something, before he said, "You claim no skill in magic or foresight, so perhaps another had these abilities? A Seer who informed you, and the… _others_?"

As I shook my head, I could sense the unease in the air, since he was never going to guess and we were just going around in circles at this point. I glanced over, noting his expression bordered on resignation. Like it or not, he was probably coming to the same conclusion. Then again, he wasn't really the quitting type.

"I am to believe you simply came across this knowledge, with no source and no reason?"

Oh, I had a source alright… Just not one he'd want to know about.

We stared for another long minute when I didn't respond, assuming it was just more of him throwing ideas at the wall and waiting for something to stick. When I began biting my lip in nervousness, Thorin glanced down at the action, but wasn't really focused on it. He slipped slowly into deep thought again and eventually moved his gaze back to the campsite, which I was grateful for.

Thorin seemed more focused suddenly, as his eyes travelled to where Bilbo was seated. Beside the Hobbit, Gandalf gestured to the side with his pipe, likely telling some tall tale to inspire bravery and adventurousness or some other life-endangering nonsense. At least, if Bilbo's little nose wrinkle of distaste was anything to go by.

"On the doorstep of the Halfling's home," Thorin began anew, still watching the two across camp, "Gandalf, I was told, said something of interest. That 'No introductions were necessary' for him when you arrived?"

Who in blue blazes thought to tell him about _that?_ I took a quick peek around the camp as my eyebrows drew downward, trying to remember who was on that porch when Gandalf said those words. From my peripheral, I could tell from a slight angle of his head that Thorin was watching me again, noticing the tells I was working so hard to mask. My internal cringing was starting to not just be _internal_ anymore.

"Perhaps your unexplained awareness of our world reaches further yet."

I cut my eyes over, not fully facing him. Not _willing_ to fully face him, anyway, as he let that theory settle over the atmosphere like some ominous, hand-quilted blanket.

"Gandalf the Grey has a reputation, though I did not know that reputation extended to other worlds," Thorin said guardedly. It was like he sensed the volatility of the waters he was treading into. After seeing my slight twitch of a reaction, which confirmed his suspicions, he asked, "So you _were_ familiar with the wizard before arrival here?"

 _Great._ I nodded, biting at my lip a little harder than I meant to. Something in the conversation shifted when I established that, causing my lungs to tighten.

Thorin looked to be having some kind of internal debate. He studied me for a moment, as I fidgeted under his regal stare, before taking a few steps closer, turning the majority of his back towards the camp. It was a move of secrecy and discretion, making it clear that he didn't want anyone to accidentally read his lips or overhear.

"Upon the cliff side," he pointed out quietly, "after Balin spoke of the battle – you behaved strangely. More so than usual."

I squinted at that dry, additional comment, despite my growing nerves.

Thorin ignored my slight displeasure in order to stay on this very serious track. He felt he was getting somewhere, and unfortunately, he was. "Had you known of Azanulbizar prior to that account as well?"

The world became the sound of my heartbeat bursting out of my ears. My jaw clenched as I forced myself to nod. The world's slowest, most agonizing nod.

That was what did it. This look gradually overcame him, as his chin lifted and his brows relaxed, like I had just revealed the secrets of the universe. His eyes held something different though and that worried me. Something had been confirmed, but just what…?

That was when I realized. Of course. The Battle of Azanulbizar.

 _Balin never said the name of the battle._

With that, I established two things I wasn't super stoked to reveal just yet. Firstly, the obvious revelation that I knew yet _more_ about Dwarven history and locations, but also – secondly, that my knowledge involved _him_ too. It was a well-planned maneuver to kill two birds with one stone, and he hit the birds alright.

I could merely stare past him in apprehension, unable to make eye contact when I recognized this.

"Of what _else_ do you know, Miss Hollander?" inquired Thorin with no small amount of suspicion; part of it rhetorical, and the other half back to his traditional severity.

There was only one way to answer that due to my limits. Again, with inexperienced and hesitant hands, I refused to look up as I once more signed, _'A lot.'_

It was quiet for a moment as he considered my answer, probably gaining back every ounce of suspicion he previously had towards me. 'A lot' didn't quite cover the span of this junk in my brain, rattling around, threatening to get me in serious trouble. Part of that was my own fault though, as I really hadn't accounted for just how smart Thorin was. How quickly he was piecing this puzzle together. How did he manage to have looks _and_ brains? (Both of which were no help to my already weak-willed ass.)

"The quest, the map, the wizard…" he listed. It seemed to be nothing more than the same loop we'd been stuck on. There was a half a second of reflection on his part, before he added as what appeared to be an afterthought, "The handkerchief."

 _Huh?_ I did meet his gaze then, curiosity getting the better of me. What was he going on about now? My blatant confusion spurred him to continue on this vein of thought.

"The handkerchief," Thorin repeated, more firmly this time. "Master Baggins did not join us until much later that first morning, yet you knew he would come. You knew he would forget his handkerchief, as well."

I froze.

The Dwarf King had been testing the waters again, and my automatic response of panic was the answer to his guesswork. I wanted to slap myself. This whole evening was revealing too many things at once, like dropping a ball of yarn and trying to pull it back by the string, but it just keeps unraveling the more you reel it in.

"So, I am correct then?" he surmised, resolute.

I just stared at him, unsure of what to do. Stupidly, I had thought this would be a problem for a much later time, farther along in the quest. I didn't have a plan of what to do if he figured out this early that I knew future events, and he was exceedingly – dangerously – close to that. Even just a small event like Bilbo forgetting the handkerchief could be a tipping point for much more distressing information to come forth.

Thorin took my unresponsive anxiety as me simply being stubborn and refusing to answer. He reminded me in a low, but surprisingly calm tone, "You gave your word."

There was a sudden spark of agitation at this, snapping me out of my fretful daze. I made it clear that I remembered the promise just fine, thanks, offering up an acidic expression as I tilted my head in a _no duh_ fashion.

More or less offended by that, Thorin's trademark glare was trying to return. He'd been quite patient tonight, despite the topics that he no doubt found disconcerting, and my reciprocation was less-than-stellar. I could kind of see why he would be scowling.

We simply looked at each other for a long, stressful minute.

Thorin's gaze was steady, though not angry yet, weighing what information he had on me so far. No doubt, the majority of our trip was him wondering how much information I had and what would happen if it turned out I was some back-stabber, or if I compromised the quest, but he was trying to work with me at least. We'd finally reached a good level. I mean, this was Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror. I knew he wasn't just going to open up to me like a bloomin' daisy. It's why I was so glad about the stupid tattoo comment. It showed improvement.

Trust was a two-way street, though, I reminded myself. This would require patience not only from him, but from me as well, and I didn't need Gandalf to tell me that much.

 _Kill 'em with kindness._

I took a deep breath through my nose and closed my eyes for a second. Forcing my frown to vanish, I straightened myself up from my default of hunching under pressure, then let the breath out as I opened my eyes again. Thorin's deep blue gaze narrowed in the slightest when he watched my demeanor shift to accommodate a look of understanding and apology. I held out my hands, palms forward, inclining my head a bit to reignite our truce before things went further downhill.

This was going to be difficult, yes. His trust was going to have to be earned, and that would take time, but we were making progress. In return, I had to trust that he would accept my answers, and accept that I was trying my hardest to learn the Iglishmêk so those answers could be explained. (For better or worse. If it saved his life, then I would call it better.) A simple pinky promise wasn't going to bust any walls down over night. I didn't expect him to put his faith in a total stranger right away. And that was fine.

 _We'll figure this out._

Those eyes full of attentiveness had not left mine, and I watched as Thorin allowed the crease between his brows to smooth out a bit as he got my message. At least, I hoped he did. This time, when his expression shifted, it became one of what seemed like concern or maybe speculation instead of annoyance. There was no telling what was going through his mind. Concern for the quest, concerned about trusting me, concerned about consequences… There were many possibilities.

The only other time we had been this close was when I made my promise, the majestic Dwarf King just an arm's length away. When it dawned on me that I could probably count the silver streaks in his hair from where I was standing, my sense of calm confidence vanished. I returned to the normal, self-conscious Jenna like some kind of switch had been flipped, and my hands flew back inside my hoodie pocket as I broke eye contact. I took an awkward step back, but he didn't seem fazed.

Bofur and Nori chose then of all times to return, the former cackling at something the other said prior. Thorin's own default demeanor came back as well – the ever present stoicism he valued so much – leaving me to wonder if I had imagined that whole wordless communication.

He turned away with what appeared to be a nod of hesitant dismissal, while he gave one last look of obvious meaning to me, saying, "This conversation _will_ be continued, Miss Hollander."

I had no doubt. I offered up a tiny nod, though Thorin had already left my vicinity.

Our entire exchange had me feeling drained and definitely ready for sleep. I shuffled back into the bounds of camp, over to where I had placed my things, ignoring the curious looks I was getting about my sobriety while I tried to get everything situated. Maybe if I was lucky then Bombur would roll over and smother me in the middle of the night so I would never have to finish that conversation.

As it was, misfortune seemed more dedicated to sticking with me than _luck_.

I did not, in fact, see the satchel that had been laying close by my selected bedding area, as distracted by my thoughts as I was. I did not, in fact, realize the bag's owner had left its contents sitting neatly beside it while he went off to answer the call of nature. I did not, in fact, notice any of this before unrolling my sleeping gear and accidentally flinging it into these items.

The bedroll unfurled with a heavy _puff_ noise, as it usually did, but was accompanied by a hard _clink_ and the rustle of paper. I immediately stopped my actions, dropped the end of the bedroll I had and darted to the other end of it. That was about when I noticed Ori's satchel laying not but two feet away.

 _Oh no. Ohnonono…_

I quickly kneeled and lifted the blankets to see what they landed on. Of course, now sprawled out on the ground instead of settled to tidily await their owner, were Ori's journaling utensils.

My stomach dropped upon seeing the tiny container of ink lying on its side, having spilled out into the grass. Thankfully, other than a crinkle in the current page, the hefty leather-bound journal sitting open beside the quill and ink was spared from damage.

That didn't magically fix the ink problem, though. It looked like I murdered a squid or something, and I was stuck in panic mode, glancing around to see if anyone saw my blunder. My eyes darted over the camp briefly before meeting with Kili's. Parked on his spot he had claimed for the night, he was messing with his bow when he caught sight of me and quirked an eyebrow at my barefaced alarm. His gaze travelled down to the bedroll I had pulled away and the supplies scattered beside it, causing him to comprehend the situation with equal worry. Always close by, Fili noticed our interaction, taking a peek over at what I had done as well. The concerned look that cropped up on his face was also _not_ reassuring.

Of course, that's when Ori made his return.

Completely oblivious to the wide-eyed staring of Fili, Kili, and me, the young scribe meandered back to where he had left his satchel. He came to an abrupt halt some feet from me when he spotted the journaling supplies in disarray, and I had to watch his face fall.

He shuffled closer with his big brown eyes still locked on the mess, eventually moving his attention to where I was seated. In dismayed confusion, he slowly asked, "…what happened?"

I shrunk down, cringing with guilt, when I felt the Company's attention shift at the sound of Ori's distress. Dori, especially, was whipping his head up from whatever he had been doing and zoning in on his little brother. He was over next to us within seconds, surveying the mess then glancing at me with a look of reproach.

To further investigate the scene, Ori lowered himself to his knees across from me, on the other side of his supply pile. He seemed to realize then just why I looked so miserable, discovering the spill. "Oh no –! My ink…" he sighed mournfully, picking up the now-empty little ink pot.

"Well now you've done it," Dori huffed in my direction, incredibly defensive of his youngest sibling. I tried to mouth my apology, but he had already turned his attention back to Ori, leaving me gaping like a fish.

From a few paces away came Nori's voice, having come over sometime during it all. "It's not like she meant to. Besides, he always keeps extra with him anyway, don't you, Ori?" he asked with certainty.

There was a long pause in which Ori hesitated. Nervously, almost like he was afraid to even bring it up, he corrected, "Actually… my spare – it was left in Bree by mistake."

It took me a second, but then I finally recalled what he was talking about. _Oh great…_

Risking a look over to Thorin, I noticed his eyes were a little bit wider than usual despite the frown suddenly gracing his face. He, too, was remembering the same thing, glancing my way, temporarily pushing aside thoughts of our alarming Q and A session to make way for the current predicament. When our eyes met, I blushed like crazy, both at the memory of him walking in on me shirtless and at the mutual understanding of what we forgot in that room because of it.

"How did you manage to do something like that? You're always so careful with your supplies," Dori said, partially prodding and partially scolding.

Ori gazed down at the grass, mumbling, "Well…"

 _Hell's bells._ The guilt sprang up like a bouncy ball on concrete. If I had been using my brain that morning in the Prancing Pony – at all, in any way – this wouldn't be a concern. I would have used the partition, or slipped my bra on under my shirt instead. Even failing that, I could have grabbed Ori's art supplies on the way down to breakfast. I looked right at them! I remember them sitting right there, on that little table! But no. Thorin _had_ to walk in and fry my brain by catching me topless. (As bad as it was, I gained some demented satisfaction at knowing I was not the only one whose brain apparently stopped working after that... Horrible, I know.)

I really didn't anyone dwelling on it or asking questions about what happened that morning before we left Bree, so I put a hand on Ori's arm and looked up to the disapproving face of Dori. Placing my other hand on my chest, I parted my lips to mouth an apology at the same time that someone else decided to speak up.

"The blame for that is my own, Dori," Thorin stated suddenly, stepping closer to the conversation. He had no hesitation, exuding a confidence in his apology that was both intimidating and – somehow – humbling. "Your brother was kind enough to lend me his writing tools during our stay. In my negligence, they were left behind, and I am sorry."

I blinked several times, frozen mid-communication. Everyone became very attentive at the involvement of their leader, if they hadn't already been, and the camp fell silent. Thorin gave me a very pointed look that seemed somewhat annoyed, but was clearly telling me to let it be. Gradually, I let my hand slide from my chest and the other fall from Ori's arm.

Dori was not a happy camper, what with his brotherly instincts acting up, but he didn't exactly feel it would be appropriate to chomp on Thorin either though. He settled instead for replying glumly to his sibling, "Well then. I guess that's all there is for it, Ori. We'll get you some more ink… somewhere."

"Not sure where that would be, considerin' there isn't another town for – oof!" Nori was cut off by Dori's elbow in his ribcage, a deadly glare close behind.

Ori's overall demeanor was heartbreaking, and I felt horrible, wishing desperately for some way to fix this. He was the scribe, for Pete's Sake! He needed his journaling shit, but it wasn't like we could go back to Bree, and I certainly didn't have…

I gasped upon remembering something. This elicited some strange looks, until I hopped to my feet, giving the distraught Ori several "one moment" signals while I hopped over to my bag. He seemed extremely puzzled, as did the rest of them.

"What on Earth could she be doing?" Dori muttered like I wasn't only a few feet away.

"Give her a moment," Bofur broke in, after having watched the whole debacle in silence for a while, "and maybe ye'll find out."

I rummaged through my backpack hurriedly, grateful again for Bofur's kindness in that innocuous defense. Once I grabbed what I needed, I hopped back over to sit beside Ori, who had still not actually gotten around to standing up due to his disappointment in the situation.

I opened my notebook to a random page and pulled out my click-pen. Ori blinked owlishly at the strange objects and I scooted close enough for him to watch as I put the pen to the paper and scribbled a bit. Behind me, Fili and Kili had migrated our way, and now Bofur and Nori hovered over us to see what I was doing as well.

After demonstrating a second time, I offered the pen to Ori, and he gave me a questioning look, but I just nodded until he carefully took it.

He tested it out, in absolute awe when it did exactly what it was supposed to. "What kind of quill _is_ this, Miss Jenna? I've never seen anything like it! Where does the ink come from?" Ori asked, reminiscent of a kid on Christmas. "Is it magic?"

At our backs, Kili poked his head over ours to investigate the display, setting his hands on my shoulders for balance. "I thought you said you weren't a wizard!" he gasped in mock-betrayal.

"Looks like the tool of a wizard, certainly," Fili murmured.

I laughed airily, shaking my head. Since I really couldn't do anything useful with the writing utensils, I handed Ori the spare pen as well to make up for (ultimately) causing the loss of both his inks. There was a long moment of hesitance on his end.

"Are you certain?" Ori questioned, like I was giving away a family heirloom. I guessed it must have seemed valuable or irreplaceable to them – which I mean, now that I was in Middle Earth it _was_ irreplaceable, but I didn't mind. I just closed his mitten-adorned hand around the extra, pushing it towards his person with a nod. His face lit up as he said, "Thank you so much! This is very kind of you."

I shook my head again with an awkward smile, tilting my chin down and attempting a shrug (which was impossible with Kili leaning on my shoulders that way). I was literally just fixing a mess I helped set in motion.

There was a cough and I peeked up at the eldest of the Brothers Ri.

"No, no, Ori's right. Thank you, Miss Hollander," Dori said, looking uncomfortable. There was a second where he deliberated, then crouched down with me and Ori. "You see, I don't know if you've been told, but he's taken on the role of scribe for this expedition."

Pretending to be surprised was a task, but I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth a tad to imitate the proper expression. He seemed to buy it, though, continuing.

"As you can imagine, being able to write is obviously important for that job. He's been so looking forward to chronicling the quest, and for a moment, well… I was afraid he wouldn't get the chance," Dori explained. "So, thank you."

I was already waving it off, shaking my head with a warm face.

Dori's gaze travelled down to my arm upon the movement. His brows drew downward as he asked, "Have you not mended that yet?"

At first I thought he was talking about the wound, which confused me, but then I realized he wasn't looking at the arm, but at the sleeve itself. Oh yeah. Oops. I'd almost forgotten there was a gaping hole there.

"Hand it here and I'll get it fixed up for you," Dori decided abruptly, in a tone that said he disapproved of my running around with a ragamuffin aesthetic.

For a moment I just blinked at him, wondering if he was really going to stitch it up for me.

My answer came in the form of Dori holding out his hand, palm up, urging, "Well, come on now."

I quickly pushed Kili – who was watching Ori try out his new pens – off of my shoulders. He flopped down with a pout beside his brother, who had taken an actual seat next to Ori instead of leaning on someone, allowing me to slip off my hoodie and hand it to Dori. He tutted for a moment at how frayed I allowed it to get, but then stood and wandered off to rummage through his bag for the necessary items.

The camp settled again, as it had been trying to do for some time, though our little cluster around Ori remained active with curiosity. I waited a decent amount of time before looking up to locate Thorin again. I was a bit embarrassed about my surprise at his confession, though also grateful. It was just so… _humanizing_. (In a manner of speaking, anyway.) He could've just as easily let me take the blame, but that was not his way.

Thorin wasn't a bad person, just grumpy and tense. He placed high value on honor, and letting me take the blame for forgetting something _he_ borrowed wouldn't have been very honorable at all, so of course he owned up to it. Admitting your mistakes was hard enough, especially for someone as stubborn as him, but admitting your mistakes while being looked up to as a leader? Always under constant scrutiny of your followers?

It was… something else. Normal, perhaps, but I was appreciative all the same.

Thorin had found a seat beside Balin, a small frown on his face as he spoke with the white-haired Dwarf. This _something else_ had me staring for much longer than I intended, wondering what had him frowning. This _something else_ had me looking not just at his sharp nose and his wavy mane, but also at his morality and his determination. This _something else_ had my ears ablaze when Thorin caught my eyes locked on him so acutely.

This _something else_ was dangerous, as I recognized exactly what was happening, so I quickly flung those thoughts as far as possible out of my mind and broke my gaze.

"Does it eventually stop writing? Yes…? But it lasts for a good while then? I still don't understand how it works if it's not magic," Ori babbled, drawing my attention back to our circle so I could answer his questions. I noticed he was less reserved when talking about his passion, as most people tend to be. It was sweet, and I was more than happy to teach him what he wanted to know about my weird writing utensils, especially since he had been so gracious in helping with the Iglishmêk.

The others had scooted closer to Ori and me by then, listening in as Ori tried the pens out in his own journal. Bofur and Nori were right there beside us, chatting up a storm.

"That really is a peculiar little thing though," Nori said in reference to the pen.

"Of course!" Bofur laughed. "She _is_ from a different world, after all. Ye should see the tiny paintin' she carries in her bag – most detail I've ever seen on something so small, it's unbelievable! Do ye have it with you, Miss Hollander? You should show 'em!"

Upon being addressed, I looked to him and sadly shook my head, waving a hand in the direction of the Shire. Er, what I thought was the right direction, anyway. His brows came together, not used to having to think on my miming for very long before understanding. To clarify, I made a big circle in the air with my hands in allusion to a Hobbit door, and pointed to Bilbo, slowly signing, _'House.'_

"Ah, you left behind, in Hobbiton?" Bofur concluded. "Shame. It was truly something."

Nori was definitely engrossed now, leaning forward from his spot on the ground. "I'm sure she brought some other unusual things with her at least – have you seen that bag? Definition of unusual, right there."

I raised an eyebrow at him as they casually talked about my stuff.

"No offense meant, of course," Nori said to me. His eyeballs immediately went back to my bag and I heaved a sigh, knowing there was nothing for it but to show them, or they'd be wondering for the entire damn trip.

Everyone was winding down for the evening as I dragged my backpack over, unzipping it and pulling out a few things. On one side of the fire, we had my cluster of nosy Dwarves – plus one Hobbit who had meandered over without us even noticing – and on the other, we had everyone else who was trying to act like they weren't interested in my otherworldly possessions. They were failing, obviously. Even Gandalf was unable to keep himself from peeking over every once in a while, puffing on his pipe, and despite Dori being absolutely engrossed in patching up my hoodie, he still glanced up a few times.

I allowed _The Last Unicorn_ to be passed around, along with my water bottle. Nori tapped at the clear blue plastic of the container as soon as it reached his hands, turning it every which way like a new angle would tell him what it was made of.

"'Made in China'?" read Nori dubiously. "Never heard of the place."

Kili piped up, asking me, "Is that where you're from? Chy-nah?"

Forcing myself not to cringe at his pronunciation, I shook my head. Meanwhile, Bilbo had gotten hold of my book, flipping through it with such a mystified expression that I was afraid it broke him for a second.

"I've never seen binding like this before in my life," the Hobbit murmured in disbelief. "Not to mention – I mean, just look at this cover. How did they even manage that?"

Upon mention of a book, Ori paused in his writing to investigate, taking on the Christmas expression once again when he spotted it.

Their reactions were so entertaining. I just sat there like a nerd, smiling, watching them be fascinated by items that were completely normal in my world. It was an interesting kind of joy, like showing a kid a magic trick for the first time, and I found my affections towards the group growing again.

A few minutes passed before Thorin assigned the first and second watch for the evening. I took that as my signal and gathered my belongings back up – much to the assembly's dismay – stowing them in my pack once more. Ori found a home for his new pens in his own bag, throwing me another grateful smile before lying down too.

Dori came over as well to return my newly fixed hoodie. I grinned as I took the garment and ran a finger over the row of stitching, mouthing, _'Thank you.'_

"You're very welcome, Miss Hollander," Dori said with a smile back. "We don't need our lady running around with holes all in her clothing, now do we?"

I bit back a giggle and shook my head, watching him depart to begin his watch for the night. I was correct. He did not approve of my ragamuffin aesthetic.

One of the last ones to do so, I re-arranged my own bedroll between Bofur and apparently Kili now, seeing as how the princes literally dragged their own bedding over to our group mid-way through everything without my noticing. I stood there for a moment with my arms crossed before finally rolling my eyes when Fili and Kili just stared at me, refusing to budge.

I flopped down with a sigh, feeling safe in the center of my new friends. The thought was odd, but warmed my chest, making me forget for one fleeting second what I had been sent there to do. On one side of me, Fili and Kili were finally dozing, and next to them lay Ori and Nori, which came full circle back to Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur on my other side, with a close addition of Bilbo. For once in my life, I didn't feel smothered by the presence of so many people, but instead felt comforted and cozy.

Of course, that's when thunder sounded in the distance.

And the next morning, it rained.

* * *

 ** _There we go. All I've got for now, folks. Our bunch has run into some weather, and you know what comes after that, so more action isn't too far off. ;)_**

 ** _Don't be afraid to tell me what you think of the story so far! All thoughts and opinions are welcome, as well as cherished! I've printed out a ton of your reviews to hang on my wall as inspiration, so don't ever think your words don't matter. They do. :)_**

 ** _As always - until next time!_**


	16. The Rain

_**Hello all you lovely people! I hope you had fun over the holidays. Thank you so much for being patient as I took a small break from writing to enjoy Christmas and New Year's. In return, you get this monstrosity. I really didn't mean to make it so long, I swear, but here we are. Haha I'll try not to overdo it with chapter length next time, but there was just a lot of stuff that had to happen in here. lol**_

 _ **To**_ **Megan VR** _ **: I know, right? I love that trope of them reacting to modern things so much lol. And hopefully Thorin and Jenna's interactions will continue to entertain you as well. Thank you for reviewing! ;)**_

 _ **To**_ **LoveMeSomeFili** _ **: (haha I love me some Fili too!) Thank you. I do try to portray Thorin as smart, and sometimes I wonder if I'm overdoing it, but I'm glad you like the way I write him. I don't like it when he's portrayed as dense either! lol thank you again. :)**_

 _ **And a big fat thank you to all of you who reviewed. You guys really motivate me.**_

 _ **Anyway, you've waited long enough!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

And it rained.

And it rained.

And it may have rained a little more, but I might be wrong, since I couldn't see past all the _rain._

The upside was that, for the first time, I actually got to use the cloak I bought in Bree with my wager winnings. Surprisingly effective for its simplicity, the thick covering worked better than any umbrella would have in this situation, and I was glad Balin had suggested it when we shopped. The downside was the fact that I started my lady times at the same time as the rain. I was thankful my periods were short, but honestly I could have done without that additional fun in the first place. The few feminine supplies I had from my own world were _definitely_ not going to last very long, so again, I found myself thanking Balin for his assistance in Bree.

The rain came hard and fast, waking us quite rudely before time was due. It didn't even feel like morning yet with how murky the skies were on that first day of the downpour. Everyone was in a slightly foul mood after that, when we travelled onward and the weather showed no sign of letting up. Lunch was dried meat and some tough bread, and while it was filling, we wound up having to eat it again for dinner because there was not enough dry kindling to create anything other than a small fire for light.

We had stumbled upon a large overhang that evening, just the right size for everyone to squeeze under if we didn't care about personal space too much. The ponies – being ponies – were fine with standing outside the bounds of our makeshift roof, though ironically, Stormy seemed the least happy about the weather. I mentally made a promise to love on her more before we parted in a few days.

The entire Company was soggy and grumpy about the cramped shelter, but glad to be out of the rain. I was thankful I'd been growing more comfortable with them, because we literally couldn't turn around without bumping elbows with someone. While I cared about them deeply, we all smelled a little bit like wet dog, and I don't think I could have handled the odor and the awkward proximity as well.

Our sad campfire made a matchstick look like a blazing inferno. Gloin attempted to keep it going with some dead twigs he'd found in the overhang we occupied, if only to allow us to see something as night fell.

"You don't think this can keep up for much longer, do you?" Ori asked no one in particular, inspecting his satchel to make sure his journal was still dry.

"Hasn't shown any sign of letting up, so I wouldn't count on it, lad," responded Dwalin from his seat at the edge of the overhang's cover.

Bilbo and I were at the very back of the half-cave, I assumed because we were the weakest of the group. I didn't blame them, honestly. I wouldn't want me or him to be the first line of defense if something cornered us either.

Next to us, Ori seemed satisfied that his journal was unharmed and opened it to begin his entry for the evening, clicking the pen I gave him. He exuded a small sigh, saying, "That's what I was afraid of."

"Oh, a little rain can't do us any harm," Bofur spoke up. "Unless it floods and we drown in our sleep. That could do it."

Bilbo's head popped up as he watched the miner for a second, trying to figure out if this was just another pull at his leg. Eventually, he asked, "That... That's not likely to happen, though, I assume?"

"Why, happens all the time," said Bofur, leaning against the mossy wall. "Poor, unsuspecting travelers caught up in a wee bit of rain… Then all of a sudden it's not a wee bit anymore, and they're washed all the way past the White Mountains."

The Hobbit's face was a similar color as the aforementioned mountains.

Rolling my eyes, I felt around for a tiny pebble and chunked it at Bofur's arm. It bounced off harmlessly, causing him to snicker, and Bilbo realized that he had been played, yet again.

"Your idea of humor is very concerning, Master Bofur," said Bilbo morosely.

Bofur found himself chuckling again with his reply of, "Just Bofur is plenty – if we're gonna be stuck on the road together for so long, may as well drop the formality. And my humor is nothin' to be concerned about. The way I see it, if you always expect the worst outcome, then any outcome that's not _that_ outcome is the better outcome because you've already thought of the worst."

There was a long moment where Bilbo and I just stared at him, trying to decipher what the hell he just said. It made sense… in a twisted, roundabout, very _Bofur_ sort of way.

"Ah… well, then," Bilbo said. He kind of grasped around for his next words, settling on the lifeline of a less confusing topic involved. "I suppose just Bilbo is plenty for me as well, thank you."

I took hold of the opportunity, flagging down Bofur's attention while it was still directed our way. This formality _was_ a little stiff for my taste.

He raised one brow and asked, "What's that ye need, Miss Hollander?"

I just basically poised a hand out at that statement with my palm up, tilting my chin down, and waited. For added measure, I signed, _'Jenna. Please.'_

"Are you sure? Always been taught to treat a lass with the utmost respect, but if that's what ye want…" Bofur said, mustache curving up with his smile as he quirked his head towards me. "Alrighty then, Jenna."

Grinning, I nodded happily.

"Does that mean us as well?" Kili asked, leaning over from his spot by the fire to listen in. He looked genuinely hopeful, brown eyes practically sparkling, but I couldn't pass up the chance to mess with him and Fili, who sat next to him.

I forced a massive frown, sticking out my bottom lip and shaking my head slowly.

Thankfully, Kili picked up on the fact that I was simply playing, and laughed, "Of course. We wouldn't dare go against your wishes… _Jenna_."

My playful scowl disappeared and I smirked at his cheekiness.

Balin had chosen a seat close by the fire as well, so that we could continue my Iglishmêk lessons that rainy evening. While I was getting better, I was by no means completely fluent, only able to sign the simplest of phrases. The main concern was giving me a way to communicate, but Balin thought it was a good idea for me to also brush up on reading others as they signed back. Something about fortifying my lessons by usage – I don't know, but I was awful at it. My skill in reading the Iglishmêk was even worse than signing it, as I had to reverse what I knew about making the gestures.

We had been practicing simple conversations back and forth, and so far, I was doing alright. _'How are you?', 'Good. You?', 'I am good, thank you. How is the weather?', 'It rain.', 'It's raining.', 'Yes. It rain.'_ – Okay, I still sounded like a tier one caveman, but I was proud of myself.

After a good while of this mundane-as-hell conversing, Balin straightened up a bit. "Alright now, let's try with someone else. Not everyone is going to move their hands in the same way, you see, just as not everyone has the same inflection while speaking," he told me while glancing around at who was closest. "Ah, laddies – here for a moment, if you would."

Fili and Kili paused in their conversation, standing to maneuver closer to us and plop down on either side of me.

"Aye? How may we be of assistance?" Fili asked as he glanced between me and Balin.

Balin answered, "I simply believe it would benefit Miss…"

He trailed off upon noticing the tiny frown and the shake of my head. Already having heard the interaction with Bofur a little while ago, he knew exactly what I was disapproving of.

"…Miss Jenna… if we gave her a smidge of extra practice," he resumed, a wry smile playing on his lips. Though he still felt the need for the 'Miss', I supposed that was close enough. Balin turned back to the boys then, saying, "If you don't mind, that is."

"We would be glad to help, wouldn't we, _brother_?" Fili assured us in a strange tone, meeting Kili's gaze with a look that was borderline condemning. Just what it was about though, I had no clue.

On my other side, I turned to see Kili looking quite uncomfortable all of the sudden as he stared straight past me to his sibling. "Yes, absolutely. What… what did you need us to do?" he asked with an odd pause, dragging his eyes away from Fili.

Balin had caught all this, probably even easier than I did, but only spared a curious look before he said, "Well, I need you two to speak with the lass for a moment using the Iglishmêk. It'll be good practice, for both involved."

Kili was tense, but nodded.

Fili, on the other hand, eyeballed his brother as if expecting his nose to spontaneously combust, then scooted forward. He said, "Alright, well I'll go first then." This was followed by a conversation nearly as boring as the one I had with Balin, the subject simply being food instead. When we were through talking about what we had for dinner (and correcting me when I signed 'meat' as 'meap'), we then turned to Kili expectantly.

Honestly, he looked as though we were about to shoot his puppy or something.

"Your turn, Kili," addressed Balin.

Kili's mouth opened and then closed again, then opened once more as he ducked his head and muttered something. Even with how close I was sitting to him, I couldn't really distinguish the words over the sound of the rain, so it was no wonder nobody else could.

"What's that, lad?" Balin asked as he leaned forward a bit, straining to listen.

The words were mumbled again. This time, though, I could make out some of it, becoming very confused at what I thought he was saying. Did he really not…?

Fili was the one who prompted him, inquiring with a knowing look, "What was that, Kee?"

"I _said_ 'I don't know the Iglishmêk,' alright? Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?" Kili finally blurted, glaring at his brother. "I didn't believe I would ever need it and I was wrong, so no need to tell me what I already know."

Fili wasn't glaring back. He looked calm, but also a little worried, like he didn't mean for Kili to basically announce it to the whole world.

I was… surprised. Though, like Fili, I grew concerned when I realized how quiet the small alcove had become. How often did this sort of thing happen? I mean, certainly there were a few Dwarves here and there who didn't know their sign language? There were tons of people back home who didn't know ours despite its usefulness, that was for sure.

Kili seemed to notice the lack of noise a few seconds after us, glancing around the Company, trepidation growing on his face. There were a few that had their eyebrows raised at the sudden change in atmosphere, though there were a few mutterings and head shakes. Balin seemed only mildly surprised, probably having figured out the cause of Kili's nervousness beforehand.

Of course, Balin wasn't who the young prince was worried about.

From across our cluster of a Company, the attention of Thorin had been gained and let me tell you, he did not look happy in the slightest. I could feel the archer beside me shrink down a bit.

"Kili," called Thorin sharply. There was a near tangible drop in temperature as the King gave a tilt of his head that I recognized a little too well.

Obviously, Kili stood with all the enthusiasm of a kid getting sent to the principal's office, but he stood nonetheless and picked his way through our cramped camp to the edge of the overhang. Thorin was standing in the traditional disapproving stance – arms crossed, chin tilted down, and his whole body radiating agitation – waiting until his nephew finally came to a sluggish stop in front of him.

Part of me wanted to watch out of curiosity. To strain my ears to listen over the downpour, to see how bad it was that Kili didn't know the Iglishmek, but then the other part of me wanted to allow them privacy. I was sure Kili would prefer not to be admonished in front of everyone, had they but the seclusion necessary for such talks. As it was, they were speaking too low for me to hear, but Kili's demeanor switched between defensive and reprimanded. I turned away after a while, realizing that I was watching even when I had literally just been considering their lack of privacy.

Fili took note of my concerned look, shifting his eyes away from the pair as well. "It will all be fine," he told me quietly. "Thorin may be slightly harsh at times, but I know he has our best interest at heart. Kili's been asking me to keep that Iglishmêk secret for too long now."

"Why would the lad not bother to learn it, is my question," Balin spoke up softly, a bit surprised by the turn of events. "Did you or did you two not have lessons more than a decade ago?"

Fili nodded with an exasperated sigh. "Aye, we did. That was also the time of the Archery Tournament though, if you remember. I suppose you can figure _that_ one out easy enough."

"Of course," Balin breathed, straightening up as he realized exactly what happened.

I frowned slightly, also piecing that together quite quickly.

"I'm willing to bet the lad was more interested in target practice than anything else at the time?" surmised Balin with a sullen look.

"That is a bet you would win," Fili said as he watched his brother take the last vestiges of a scolding. "There are only so many times one can cover for their sibling and call it a 'stomach ache'. I had to get creative after a while. To this day, Master Lírn still thinks Kili has a clubbed foot."

I scrunched my lips together, trying not to laugh at that. Not a clue who that was, but the mental image of a younger Fili making up stories to keep his brother out of trouble was kind of adorable. It was also bizarre to think of this as having happened ten years ago, since I would have barely been in the double digits myself. _Dwarf aging… I'll never get over that one._

"How on Earth did you two manage to keep that one from Thorin all this time?" Balin asked with disapproval.

Fili just shook his head, giving a partial shrug and became mildly sheepish. "It just never came up. Well, until now, of course…" he trailed off, glancing at me.

My brows came together with worry as the guilt crept up my spine. True, Kili shouldn't have skimped out on his Iglishmêk lessons, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel responsible at him getting in trouble.

Seeming to sense this, Fili leaned over to me and put a hand on my shoulder, banishing my worry with a quick, "This isn't your fault in the slightest, Jenna. He's had this coming for a while. If anybody is to blame, it's me for letting it go on so long and for helping him get away with it in the first place."

I relaxed slightly at knowing he didn't see me as the cause of Kili's problem. However, I had to make sure _Kili_ saw it that way too.

Judging by the way the youngest prince lumbered back to us, plopping down beside his brother without even a glance in my direction, I wasn't so sure that he did.

Fili wore a small frown, having predicted this behavior before any of us. "Well…?" he asked.

"Well?" Kili echoed. "Would you rather hear of the copious amounts of disappointment first or of the pony cleaning duty for a week?"

There was a long silence, Fili damn near rolling his eyes as he shook his head, Balin in a state of bland dissatisfaction, and myself slouching down from the irritated aura rolling off of Kili. I took a quick peek back to where Thorin was left standing, curious as to what kind of state he was in. To my surprise, he looked more tired than angry as he watched his nephew return and settle into tense conversation with us.

"Neither, actually," Fili answered, calm again. "I don't know why you thought you could keep that a secret forever."

"Well it was working, was it not?" Kili grumbled as he still refused to look at me.

Both Balin and Fili shared a blank expression before the elder Dwarf said, "No, lad. Not really."

I shifted in my spot, stretching my boot out to barely tap the toe of Kili's. It got his attention long enough for me to impulsively apologize, mouthing, _'Sorry.'_

Balin and Fili were tense, ready to jump down Kili's throat if he said the wrong thing at this interval. Eventually realizing this, Kili let his shoulders drop with a sigh and his scowl melted away as he finally met my eyes.

"Don't apologize," he said reluctantly. "I brought this upon myself. Delaying the inevitable, honestly. I'm the one who should be sorry. Had I learned the Iglishmêk, I would be able to help you learn as well, and eventually speak to you properly."

I didn't like seeing Kili so down, even if it was his own fault, but it seemed like he learned his lesson. He was genuinely sorry that he couldn't lend a hand – pun fully intended.

I thought about it for a second before reaching over to grab my backpack and sifting through it to find the cheat sheets Ori had made me. After many nights of pouring over these things while everyone dozed, I had them practically memorized, and with how much effort Ori put into them, I knew their usefulness shouldn't end with me.

Shuffling the few pages back into a neat little stack, I offered them out to Kili. He blinked at them for a moment before recognizing the sheets for what they were. Gingerly, he took the offered little pile of papers and flicked through them, becoming confused.

"Do you… Don't you need these, Jenna?" he questioned.

 _'Not a lot. Kili learn more… Need more,'_ I signed, trying to find the right wording. _'Fix problem. Learn now.'_

"She says you're an idiot," Fili casually translated. I didn't bother correcting him, my lips drawing together in a straight line, giving my head a little wiggle that meant 'more or less'.

Kili narrowed his eyes at his brother, but seemed to be in better spirits when he turned back to me. Sitting up a little straighter, he said, "Thank you. I'll try to catch up. Maybe by the time we pass the Misty Mountains I won't have need for an _interpreter_." This was accompanied by another sour look at Fili.

"Brother, we will already be well settled into Erebor by the time you catch up," Fili snickered.

I struggled to contain a smirk at their banter. Though they joked, I knew it wouldn't take Kili nearly as long as it took me. He already knew Khuzdul, and skipping that had been my main roadblock.

 _'We can help him?'_ I asked Balin. _'I learn good now. Teach him too?'_

Balin actually seemed hesitant for some reason. He then explained his unease, saying, "I don't know if that's a good idea, lass. You've still a lot to go and teaching another would likely slow us down… I assume Thorin still has quite a few questions you cannot answer just yet?"

The sudden drop of my happy demeanor told him all he needed to know. Fili and Kili were watching us intently, the latter having figured out the subject easy enough, even without the Iglishmêk.

"That's what I thought," Balin continued. "Though I would have no qualms with it myself, I doubt that Thorin would be too keen on postponing information about the… ah, lass?"

I was already standing. It would be impractical not to just get Kili's teaching over with at the same time as mine. There was half a mumble from Balin as I left the vicinity of our circle and carefully maneuvered around the others to the edge of the alcove, less hesitant about approaching the Dwarf King than I had been when we started out.

Thorin's attention had never fully left our group after his discussion with Kili, so he was aware of my approach well beforehand, standing with his arms still crossed. The rain was right in my ear when I stopped in front of him, heavy droplets the size of marbles plopping down not a foot away as he waited silently for me to state my piece.

 _'Kili can learn with me,'_ I finally said, motions coming out surprisingly deliberate.

Despite my firmness in this statement, Thorin looked troubled at the suggestion. "He will learn the Iglishmêk at a later time. We cannot afford to delay information concerning the map, and Balin teaching a second would do just that."

I scrunched up my nose at this. I knew Thorin would get the information on time, but he didn't, causing a worry that wasn't necessary. Finally good enough at the Iglishmêk to breach the subject, I replied, _'You will learn map in time. Lots of time left.'_

Thorin gradually uncrossed his arms in order to sign back, _'How do you know?'_

Er… Maybe my eagerness to help Kili was going to get me in trouble. I definitely wasn't mentioning Lord Elrond, though. That was for sure. _'I just… know. It will be alright.'_

"You 'just know', Miss Hollander?" he questioned, resorting back to his authoritative voice. Obviously the memo about names had not reached him. That, or he was simply not comfortable calling me by anything else yet.

Understandable, I supposed. A sigh left me, not wanting to get into this map stuff while it was rainy and gross and everyone was about as giddy as an amputated leg. _'It save time. Kili learn at same time as me. Not have to do later,'_ I explained. It just made sense.

Thorin's priority was, of course, the map. He at least appeared to be considering my suggestion, which wouldn't even have been plausible two weeks ago. Erebor was at the forefront of his mind and he truly had no idea when the information about the secret entrance would be available, but I could also tell he wanted Kili to know the language. I mean, it was his nephew, after all. Thorin needed some kind of reassurance that slowing my Iglishmêk progress wouldn't hinder the expedition…

Because it convinced him _oh so well_ last time – note my sarcasm – I decided to poke my hand forward, with just my pinky sticking out.

Obviously, Thorin gave me the most stone-cold look possible. _Really? Again?_ he seemed to ask without a single word.

I just lifted my eyebrows and nodded towards my hand until he humored me (I was certain that's all it was) by raising his hand to the level of mine and connecting our pinkies again, a resigned sigh barely escaping him. The rough skin was much warmer than my own and I had to stop myself from wondering if the rest of him was the same cozy temperature. _Dammit, brain, please do not do this right now._

"You swear we will have the necessary information before reaching Erebor?" he established. The tone was a confusing mix between agitated and amused, leaving me unsure of whether he actually believed my pinky promises.

I nodded, 100% certain of at least the map's secrets and when they would be revealed.

"Very well," Thorin said as we squeezed pinkies and awkwardly let them slide from the other's grip. I figured the only reason I was able to convince him this quickly was because it was Kili we were dealing with. Had it been someone else, I wasn't so sure it would have been enough to sway the tide that was Thorin's map anxiety.

There was a pause as thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. After it passed, the Dwarf King absently added in a low tone, "This should not have been a concern in the first place."

Unsure of what he was talking about, I found my head tilting on its own, question in my eyes.

Thorin spotted the look I was giving. It was almost like he realized belatedly that he had, in fact, added the sentence aloud. I gave him props for running with it though, as he continued this train of thought regardless of whether he meant to start it or not. He turned his gaze away slightly, answering, "Kili; his Iglishmêk should not be a concern at this age."

Feeling awkward, I went for the humor card. _'I only learn just now,'_ I joked.

This earned a wry half-smile, but was not nearly as funny as I'd hoped. "You are not a Dwarrow, nor of the Line of Durin, Miss Hollander," Thorin replied sternly, though not harsh or loud enough to be heard by others over the rain. "Yours is a unique situation. While Kili is not my heir, he still has a duty as a member of the royal family. Our languages are not a task; they are an honor to be upheld."

Pursing my lips, I thought about that for a moment. If I remembered correctly, Fili and Kili were the equivalent of human teenagers, and I tried to consider my own late teens. Finally feeling bold enough, I asked, _'You saw not as task when you were young? You saw as honor?'_

Thorin appeared momentarily surprised that I would ask that, a mild challenge to him in a way. Then the surprise melded into a vague thoughtfulness, like he was trying to recall his own lessons in Iglishmêk, once upon a time.

"Eventually," he answered slowly, meeting my gaze. "I did, yes."

I didn't let that one pass by. _'But not right at first?'_

As he realized where I was going with this, Thorin scowled slightly. It became obvious he understood what point I was trying to make and didn't like my cheek at the situation, but knew I was right. Kili was young and had a lot to learn. It didn't make the ditching of Iglishmêk lessons any more excusable and he still deserved pony cleaning duty for letting everyone believe he knew it for so long. However, it wasn't all that unexpected. Royal or not, no matter the world, teenagers were pretty much universal in their tendencies.

"Though it is a grave thought that I do not wish to dwell on… should anything happen to Fili, then Kili would take on the role of my heir," Thorin said morosely.

I tried not to wriggle nervously at that, giving a half nod to get him to resume.

He continued, "My own duties are not few, and I cannot be with them at all times. Responsibility is an asset Kili must learn while he is still afforded leeway. They are not Dwarflings, Miss Hollander."

I wasn't disagreeing, so simply added, _'Still young though.'_

Thorin exhaled slowly, meeting my stare with a casualness that was new. "Aye," he granted. "Still young."

A flash of lightning and burst of thunder much closer than the last one caused me to jump, startling me out of the amicable atmosphere I was just beginning to enjoy. The rain was going at it just as strongly as when we first stopped to make camp, much to our annoyance, but it could be worse, I supposed. Bofur could have been right about the flooding.

The conversation died off with that interruption. Thorin cleared his throat in a way that made me think he hadn't actually meant to vent, though it made me slightly giddy to think he was becoming comfortable enough around me to do so at all.

"Inform Kili that he will join you for lessons with Balin tomorrow," he said, back to his usual stern exterior.

Obviously a dismissal, I nodded and gave a smile, pleased with how everything went. _'Good night,'_ I motioned before I could chicken out.

He did not say a goodnight back, but instead gave his signature downward chin tilt that basically translated to 'ditto'. Good enough for me.

Wandering back over to where Balin and the young princes were waiting, I was greeted by curious looks from the latter two as I sat down.

"I assume it went well, then?" Balin guessed though he clearly knew the answer.

I smiled and nodded a yes, expanding upon that with, _'Kili start to learn with me tom... next morning.'_

Balin showed me the correct gesture for 'tomorrow' briefly before responding. "Excellent. Might as well get it out of the way now rather than later," he said.

"What is it?" Kili asked, shifting his attention between myself and Balin, then to Thorin for a split second, before coming back to me. "What did he say?"

"You'll be taking lessons with Jenna from now on, Kee," Fili answered. "Since you didn't exactly do it right the first time."

Kili seemed conflicted, but eventually realized this would be better than just studying on his own. "Alright. And you don't have to keep reminding me. I know skipping lessons wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but you know I was busy at the time."

"Oh yes, the tournament, I know," said Fili breezily.

Quite interested in this tournament, I asked, _'How did he do?'_

Fili blinked shortly, glancing at Kili. "He did just fine, of course – best archer in Ered Luin, if I may brag on my brother for a moment. Right up until the end. He choked while shooting the final target."

Heaving a sigh, Kili stared at the roof of our cave for a second before groaning out, "Contrary to popular belief, I did not _choke_. I ate… a bad pudding or something."

"Ah, I do remember that now," Balin joined in. "You lost your dinner there in the field, did you not?"

Kili's face was just purely sour by now. "Yes, I did, but not because I choked."

I could only reach across Fili and pat Kili's arm, a smirk trying to curl its way onto my face. Kili's eyes were dangerously narrow, but it just sent me into giggles as I pulled away, knowing he wasn't serious. It was proved a few seconds later when he couldn't help but smile back slightly, merely embarrassed and not actually mad.

There was a lull where Fili glanced over to Thorin's side of the alcove, then gave me a curious look. I met his eyes expectantly, wondering what the prince was thinking, and urged him to speak with a tweak of my brows.

"So, what was that you did…?" he asked me, holding his hands up and linking his pinkies together. "What does this mean?"

I answered with a smile. _'Promise.'_

"It's a promise of some kind," Fili murmured to Kili, who had been just as interested. Now they were both staring, little gears turning in their heads, and I just let them wonder out of impishness.

* * *

The next day of rain was just as drowsy and soggy as the last. Perhaps even more so, considering we were already soaked from the previous day's downpour. Then there was the little matter of Mother Nature still trying to murder me, as if it wasn't dreary enough without that drama. I could only hope it would stop completely before I had to run from Trolls or Wargs. Yeugh.

An upside to all of it though – I got my stitches out. Yay!

"There we are," Oín announced, leaning back to check over his handy work. The injury had been bandaged again to prevent it from reopening, but full mend was right around the corner. "Mind ye take it easy for a few days. You'll have a scar, of course, but ye should count yourself lucky that's all that came of it."

With breakfast already devoured and some brief Iglishmêk lessons over with (Kili having joined us for this particular session), the camp was being taken down for the morning so that we could head off again. Nearby, Fili and Kili sidled over upon noticing my stitches had been removed. Oín packed his medical supplies up, giving me a tip of his head to say ciao for now, leaving me with the princes. The rain had calmed to a light drizzle for the time being, though it was likely to come back soon if the clouds were any indication.

"Lucky indeed," Fili mused as they approached. "You know, now that you can communicate better, you still haven't told us what exactly happened."

Nodding, Kili agreed and said, "Yes. How did you get in such a bind in the first place?"

From my seat on the damp boulder Oín had me sit on to remove my stitches, I noticed they were not the only ones whose interest was piqued. The Ur family, for example, wound up taking a look over from their packing activities when the subject arose. I supposed they would most certainly be interested, considering they were the ones who had to deal with the impromptu fishing trip in order to save me.

 _'I was lost in woods. Walk a lot. Find men,'_ I explained, a bit nervous for some reason, my hands a bit twitchy. _'Men were not good. They try to… hurt me. I run. I jump in to water. I try to swim. Not work very good.'_ I gave a sardonic snort at that, continuing, _'Bifur, Bofur, Bombur find me. Save me.'_

Bofur and Bombur were watching me with a look of concern, like they were worried I had been traumatized by the event. While the experience was about as fun as a getting a pineapple shoved up your nose, I survived, and it was thanks to them, so I gave a smile to tell them I was fine. Bofur's expression warmed when he smiled back, reverting to that jovial state, joined by Bombur's own timid smile as he packed away the rest of the cooking gear. Bifur was… preoccupied. And by preoccupied, I mean he had taken off his boot and decided to look for something inside of it. I hoped it was only a pebble or something and not another toad he'd forgotten about.

"Well, alright, but how did you wind up here? In Middle Earth?" Kili asked after Fili played translator once more. "You said you're from a different world?"

Oh. Uh… That was a little more complicated.

I frowned as I tried to come up with an explanation that was simple enough to say, and yet not overly revealing. _'Yavanna,'_ I struggled to sign her massive name, _'send me here. She talk to me. Take voice. Give… task.'_

"Task?" Fili puzzled. "What sort of task?"

Oh goodie. In all the nights of interrogation by Thorin, his nephews manage to corner me in a few measly sentences.

I stopped signing immediately, hands frozen mid air. Quickly, I maneuvered the conversation in a different direction by correcting myself, saying, _'Just… quest. When quest done, voice back.'_ It was the truth, give or take a giant war involved.

Through with returning his packs to the saddle of his pony, Bofur had meandered over to finally join us. "So, ye're saying your voice'll come back after we've reclaimed Erebor?" he questioned, looking quite hopeful for me. "Well what's the purpose of takin' your voice in the first place?"

I shrugged, having asked myself why it was necessary from day one.

"Not being able to speak for so long…" Kili said, thinking on the situation. "I don't know what I would do without a voice."

Fili nonchalantly quipped with a cheeky smirk, "Brother, it would be a _miracle_ if you didn't have a voice."

Kili came back just as quickly, saying, "The true miracle would be how you'd survive without the sweet sound of it."

"I survived for five years without it. I don't believe I would be too bothered to go another hundred or so as well," Fili joked, giving his brother a gentle push.

I watched the two kid around for a moment before chuckling, grabbing my backpack, and standing. I treaded a few yards over, strapping the bag onto Stormy so I wouldn't be the rotten egg who got ready last. The grey pony wiggled about, until I put a hand along the side of her neck, giving a few good strokes, remembering that after the rain came the trolls… I only had one or two more days with her, at most. The thought made me sad, but I could only hope the ponies would find a good home after their escape. Preferably not in the belly of a Warg, either…

The odd feeling sprang up that others had been listening to the previous conversation as well, wanting answers about Miss Map Tats McGee over here. My guts were correct, I realized as I paused for a second. I hadn't noticed that it was unusually hushed until just then, and I knew the remainder of the Company had been eavesdropping. Well. It wasn't really eavesdropping, considering we were all in the same little area, but close enough.

"Jenna," Kili said, pulling my attention back to the duo. They had ceased the bantering, putting on serious faces as they caught up with me near the ponies, returning to the earlier subject. "Once your wound isn't in danger of reopening, we'd like to teach you some self-defense."

"Just so _that_ doesn't happen anymore," Fili reasoned with a gesture to my arm as he crossed his own.

Caught off guard by the proposition, I stared at them with wide eyes.

The younger prince glanced at Fili then back to me, saying, "We're sorry if we assumed you didn't know how to fight, but… it is true, correct?"

I frowned a little at that and scrunched up my lips.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Fili murmured, ignoring my tiny glare. He put up his hands in a playful mockery of surrender and added, "We don't mean our lady any insult. We are simply trying to help."

"Teaching the lass a few tricks wouldn't be a half bad idea," Bofur chimed in from a little further away. I stared at him, too, wondering if they had all just gone insane. I wasn't a fighter.

"We're not asking you to become a decorated warrior," Kili said encouragingly, apparently having read my mind (or just my terrified face). "We just don't want you to get hurt again, you see?"

"Grown quite fond of you, myself. Can't speak for the others, o'course, but I'd rather not be draggin' you out of anymore rivers," said Bofur, his mustache tilting to accommodate the little half-grin.

The idea of learning self-defense, while a reasonable one, left my hands feeling clammy. He did have a point, though. Even if the thought of a fight was nausea inducing, I realized there was no escaping it in this world, especially if I wanted to save their asses at the end of it all. I couldn't exactly help them if my head was propped up on a pike somewhere by Orcs, now could I? Just on the very first day, I'd nearly been molested and murdered by random people. Not even Orcs. Just some dudes that were camping! What did I think was going to happen if I didn't learn a few things?

"Just some basics at first, then maybe we'll see where it goes from there, alright?" suggested Fili, setting a hand on my shoulder. The contact was welcome as it grounded me, keeping me from thinking too far ahead. Keeping me from thinking about the rest of the quest and what absolute quacks I might have to fight.

Quickly, before I could turn down the offer, I nodded. It was something I _had_ to do. Even my chicken-ass self could recognize that.

Satisfied, the princes and Bofur saddled up just as it was time to go. I hopped on Stormy, sullenly pulling my cloak's hood over my head when the rain started up again. Great timing, nature. Thanks.

Though daylight permeated the clouds, the rain was a constant irritant as several hours passed. The dirt road became so saturated, our ponies were basically just sloshing through mud at this point, and I had never wanted to curl up in a dry bed so badly in my life. _This_ was why I avoided the wilderness. Dwalin was right with what he said at Bag End. _A naïve lass with no experience in the world_ , indeed. With this much water around us, I half expected to find Nemo flopping about somewhere.

Beside me, Bilbo was trotting along with the same amount of gusto. That is to say, none at all. We hadn't been able to talk much (well, I say _talk_ ) between my learning Iglishmêk and travelling, so I offered him a smile despite the mood this foul weather was tossing onto me.

The Hobbit glanced up just in time to catch this. He returned the smile, albeit a little dismally, his hair absolutely sopping wet. "How have you been holding up, Miss – er, Jenna?" he asked, remembering at the last second that I had officially called for a drop of the formality.

I quirked my lips, giving a glance up at the tree branches above us being pummeled by water before wobbling my head with a shrug.

"Yes – it seems that's how we're all faring at the moment," Bilbo huffed.

Behind us, Balin overheard, trying to comfort him with, "It can't last forever, lad. We must simply ride through it and hope for the best."

"The motto of life," Nori mused, somewhere even further back. I didn't turn around, so as not to lead Stormy straight into Myrtle, but heard him say with incredible sarcasm, "Sure is a shame we don't have a wizard or the like. Oh, wait…"

"Here," joined in Dori, asking a little louder, "Mister Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?"

My head perked up expectantly at those familiar words. Bilbo peeked over at me and assumed my behavior was from hope that the shower might be stopped.

At the front of our procession, right next to Thorin, Gandalf called over his shoulder, "It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is _done_." There was a moment before he felt it necessary to tack at the end, "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

I couldn't help the smirk that tried to creep up on me. Would this ever get old? Knowing what people would say at certain points before they even did?

"Are there any?" Bilbo wondered, right on time, though he seemed a little disappointed to find the soggy conditions would not be magically fixed.

"What?" Gandalf asked for clarification.

"Other wizards," the Hobbit replied.

Through the drizzle, Gandalf answered, "There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two blue wizards… You know, I've quite forgotten their names..."

Bilbo and I shared an amused look before he asked, "And who is the fifth?"

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown," Gandalf said quite happy to sate the curiosity.

"Is he a great wizard?" Bilbo inquired, pausing to add some shade with, "Or is he… more like you?"

I had to tilt my head away to keep from laughing visibly.

Gandalf was not impressed by the direction this conversation had taken, glancing over his shoulder to look at Bilbo again, probably questioning his judgment in bringing such a sassy Hobbit. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way," said Gandalf. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East. And a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

Somewhere in those exact forest lands, I knew Radagast was having an absolute blast right about then. Seeing a whole lot of your dead critter friends, getting cornered in your hut while giant arachnids tried to invade, and bringing your hedgehog pal back to life only to make a mad dash away on your bunny powered sled to find out the truth of Dol Guldur. Not exactly my idea of a grand Friday night.

"Evil's found a foothold right in my achin' rear," Gloin announced. There were a few chuckles from others who felt the same way, myself included. Just because my muscles were accustomed to riding now didn't my ass was immune to going numb.

We took a midday break shortly after that, but it was only later in the day that the clouds began clearing out. The forest thinned as well as we continued. Though the weather was becoming more agreeable, it didn't mean my mood lightened, however. If anything, I grew more apprehensive the clearer the sky became, knowing what was just around the corner. And I do _mean_ around the corner.

The rain had finally stopped entirely, leaving the sun to shine for the first time in days. Our group had been heading forward on a slight incline, the terrain looking more and more familiar – large, angular rocks jutting out of the ground, though the grass was still just as green as could be, while the forest remained thick on our left side. Coming up to another incline, we rounded a hill that the forest protruded upon and as soon as the trees were out of my line of sight, I spotted the easily recognizable scene.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin informed the Company, bringing his pony to a stop and turning it to face us. He dismounted and, as always, the rest of us began to do the same. "Fili, Kili – look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

I was barely paying attention after I got off of Stormy, my eyes stuck on the burnt up farmhouse with its half-collapsed roof. It was nestled a little ways uphill from us, looking just as crispy as I recalled from the film, though perhaps more foreboding than I remembered. Maybe that was just my old buddy named Anxiety. Either way, I watched as Gandalf made his way into what was left of the building.

Honestly, I _did_ think about warning Thorin of the Trolls that would show up. I really did. It was then that I remembered the Troll hoard and, of course, the three very important swords they would find inside – Glamdring, which would be used by Gandalf many times; Orcrist, who would accompany Thorin throughout the quest; and Sting. The tiny blade would play such a large role in both this journey and the one Frodo would take in _The Lord of the Rings_.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn't change anything before we crossed the Misty Mountains. If I fucked up and caused Bilbo to miss finding the One Ring? We would have a lot more on our plate than just the quest for Erebor. Like, try the quest for _all of Middle Earth_.

Somehow I didn't imagine the little Hobbits were old enough for that task just yet.

"Oin, Gloin," I heard Thorin address as he passed them.

Gloin looked up from his pack attentively. "Aye?"

"Get a fire going," the Dwarf King finished, making his way towards the farmhouse and towards Gandalf, where my eyes were still locked.

"Right ya are," Gloin said. "Excuse me, lass."

Abruptly, I remembered that I did, in fact, have a corporal body that could get in people's way. I scooted aside with an apologetic nod so Gloin could pass by to go collect firewood, and looked around for Fili and Kili. They located me faster than I located them, Fili walking over to take Stormy for me and Kili still on his own pony.

"Would the lady like a hand with her steed?" Kili asked playfully as he rode closer, pulling to a stop.

I almost didn't want to pass her off, honestly. My hand skimmed over the pony's nose again with fondness, as it was the last time I would ever see her, and I couldn't help the glum feeling that crept up on me. _Dammit, Jenna. You knew better than to get attached to this thing._

"Are you alright?" Fili asked, inspecting my demeanor with a slight frown.

Dropping my hand from Stormy's nose, I handed the reins to Fili while nodding a little too quickly, untying my bag from the pony and slinging it over my shoulder harshly. He seemed taken aback at my behavior and paused, his brother becoming worried too.

"You… don't seem alright," Kili insisted, leaning forward on his saddle to take a closer look. "Are you sure? Do you feel unwell?"

I decided to just roll with it, grabbing onto that little lifeline and only halfway fibbed with a rub of my stomach and a grimace. Giving a shrug, I pretended to nod with reluctance – it wasn't a complete lie. My period was trying to finish up, after all, and I did still feel kind of gross.

"We'll have supper going before long – hopefully once you get something on your stomach, you'll feel better," Fili said, patting me on the arm once.

Before we could do anything else, I caught sight of Gandalf storming away from the farmhouse and, more specifically, from Thorin.

"Everything alright?" asked Bilbo from beside his pony and Balin, who looked equally concerned. Gandalf went straight by without a glance, causing the Hobbit to blurt in a slight panic, "Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," answered the Wizard irritably as he kept going, passing by Dwalin, then Oín and Gloin, who all had the same confused face.

"And who's that?" Bilbo quickly asked.

" _Myself_ , Mister Baggins!" Gandalf basically shouted in response, still not looking back. As he passed by the two princes and me, he grumbled, "I've had enough of _Dwarves_ for one day…"

Now properly grouchy, Thorin made the call for Bombur to begin making supper as Gandalf moseyed back around the hill we had come from, passed the trees, and vanished from sight. Fili and Kili shared another mind-melding look with each other before leaving me be so they could go tend to the rest of the ponies as they were told.

With nothing else for it, I readjusted my pack on my shoulders and followed the remainder of the Company up to the ruined farmhouse. As the sun began heading downward, Gloin had already set to work on the fire, nesting it right in the center of the ruins. With little walls of brick standing around us at knee height and a dilapidated roof still holding up somewhat, it was more covered than what I had gotten used to so far in our journey. The whole thing might have been cozy had I not known the former owners of the place had been devoured by Trolls.

My stomach twisted at the thought, and I set my backpack down beside an old crate covered in soot. Given, pretty much everything in this place was covered in soot, but the box looked like it would make a good seat later. If I ever actually sat down, that was.

I couldn't stop fidgeting. The kicker was that I knew I was drawing attention to myself, but I couldn't help it. I was so nervous. The Troll debacle would happen so soon – it felt _too_ soon, like I should still be rolling out of bed at Bag End on that first morning. Time was flying and it terrified me. After the Trolls, we would have to deal with Wargs chasing us and… I mean, _have I mentioned that I am not good at running?_

Bombur had barely begun unpacking his cooking utensils when he caught sight of me, picking at my sleeves, looking off towards the forest. Yanking my eyes away from the trees was difficult, but if I kept staring, they were going to figure out something was up. I met Bombur's inquisitive expression and realized I had been spacing out again. He tilted his head a bit instead of verbally asking if I was alright, ever the quiet one, and was met with my poorly formed smile and listless shrug that probably gave away every thought in my skull.

The cooking fire kicked up momentarily from a breeze, thankfully drawing Bombur's concentration away from my weird behavior as he helped Gloin get it back to normal. He returned to adjusting the kettle above the fire and I quickly moved to find something to preoccupy myself with before he could wonder on the situation further.

I nearly tripped over my own backpack while trying to vacate the premises nervously. Giving the pack a nudge out of the way with my foot, further towards the little brick wall, I stepped around it and out of the way of everyone who was still trying to get things set up. Was there anyone who needed help? Was there anything at all I could do to _not_ think?

I asked around, eventually finding Dori bringing over the stew ingredients. Helping him carry those took all of two seconds, which was not nearly enough time to take my mind off things, so I continued looking for literally anything to do. For half a second, I nearly asked Nori if he needed help cutting up the meat, but took one look at the mess and instantly knew my stomach could not handle that at this time.

About half an hour passed by in this fashion – me, panicking, being overly helpful and earning stares, forcing myself to calm down, then getting hyped up again and starting the process all over.

Way to be discreet, Jenna.

Bilbo, it turned out, was in a similar state of nervousness. It was obviously for different reasons, but it was nice to see someone else having a good old time with Mister Anxiety. The more the merrier, as it goes.

The Hobbit was traipsing about the crispy farmhouse, his little fists balling up then loosening as he kept glancing in the direction that Gandalf had gone. He paused his pacing at a wooden beam that may have once been holding the roof up, but was now just standing upright against part of the house.

I made my way over, stopping beside Bilbo. It took him a while to even realize I was there, doing a double take before looking back to the forest. "Sorry, it's just…" he began, then brought his eyes to me again. "Has Gandalf not been gone for quite a while now?"

With the sun having abandoned the sky, it was almost impossible from where we were to see the route Gandalf had taken. I still looked in the direction all the same, the topic simply calling for it, and gave a shrug. I was doing a lot of shrugging today, wasn't I?

Bilbo saw the gesture for the useless thing it was and gave a bland expression before he said, "Thank you. That is _very_ helpful."

I raised an eyebrow at the snappishness, though I didn't bother getting upset over it. There were more worrisome things on my mind.

He noted the look on my face before taking a deep breath. "I am sorry – again. That was a bit rude of me, wasn't it?" Bilbo conceded a little softer, resting one hand on the wooden beam and another hand on his hip. He took that moment to actually look at me, tipping his head and squinting his eyes to try and see some tiny giveaway I knew must be visible. "Is – is something bothering you as well? You've been awfully quie… ah, I mean. You've been a little less – _yourself,_ since we stopped this evening."

Dear, shoulder-height, overly-perceptive Bilbo Baggins.

Adding to my never-ending list of shrugs for the day, I gave another one in reply, rubbing my stomach and taking a glance behind us where Bofur was beginning to divvy out the stew. I was actually _happy_ to have a warm meal again after the rain, even if it was just the same stuff we had before.

Bilbo watched my motion and gave a slight nod. "If that's all it is, I suppose I can understand that. Hobbits and their food, after all," he said with a nervous chuckle. He inhaled deeply afterwards to calm himself, though it didn't really work, because he immediately dropped his hands from their spots and began stretching his hands in that fretful fashion again. He stepped away from the beam, huffing out with another glance to the forest as he walked away, "He's been a long time."

Bofur, from beside the large kettle hanging over the fire, said, "Who?"

"Gandalf," the Hobbit responded anxiously.

"He's a wizard. He does as he chooses," Bofur said, not worried in the least. He filled up two bowls as Bilbo came his direction, and handed them off with a quick, "Can ye do us a favor? Take these to the lads."

That was about enough to send my own anxiety through the roof. Not that it would have been difficult. Both the metaphorical roof and the physical roof above us were already on their last legs.

Deciding I should at least _try_ to act normal, I meandered over to Bofur after the Hobbit departed, just as he was swatting his little brother away from the stew, saying, "Stop it – you've had plenty." Normal me would have been chomping at the bits to get some food in her tummy by now, so I came up beside the friendly Dwarf as Bombur walked away with a little pout.

"Ready for some stew there, lass?" Bofur asked me as he picked up an unused bowl. When he went to dip the ladle, he glanced up at me, a small frown cropping up. "Ye feeling alright?"

Now properly getting tired of the question, I sighed, putting on my best smile and nodding. Of course Bofur could read me like a neon sign, but his thoughtfulness did make me feel a little better. Everything would be fine. I needed to find my chill.

"If ye say so," Bofur said, not sounding convinced, though passed me a bowl nonetheless. "Here, get somethin' in that stomach. Maybe it'll help."

If you asked these guys, food was the answer to basically everything.

Whether it would help or not, I took the bowl with a thankful nod. I was deep in thought as I maneuvered around, not really paying attention, though also trying to recall where I set my backpack in my earlier daze. Lord, could I even eat in this state? Or would I just wind up staring at it until it was time to get captured by Trolls? Would I even be going? Would they make me stay here? Or would I have –

This thought was cut off when my foot snagged on my backpack. The backpack I didn't remember moving, because I had been zoned out the entire evening.

When my foot snagged, I fell forward, losing the grip on my bowl and having it fly out of my hand as I stumbled onto the sooty box I only just then recalled. The landing jarred me, but I heard the soppy splash of stew hitting someone and the bowl clattering to the ground. There were two or three gasps. I don't know who from.

I looked up.

Oh for – for _fuck's sake! Again?!_

Absolute mortification swallowed me whole when I realized Thorin had been standing there, about to eat as well when the human disaster struck. He inhaled sharply through his nose, remaining tight-lipped as the stew seeped into his clothing. His coat, his armor, his shirt – there was stew everywhere.

I didn't suppose that stuff had any time to cool down beforehand either, did it?

Thorin had to set his own bowl down on the brick wall in order to deal with card he had just been dealt, and gave me a passing glance – passing _glare_ , more like – before taking a cloth rag that was suddenly tossed to him by Dwalin. The whole place was awkwardly quiet and I didn't even have to look around to know everyone was watching this fudge up.

Pushing myself off of the crate, I stood up straight again, embarrassed past the point of no return. My hands fumbled the apology so many times, I would have been surprised if anyone understood a single, full _'Sorry'_ out of it.

Thorin watched my signing briefly before looking back down at his coat as he wiped it off, getting the gist of what I was trying to say. When his coat was mostly clear, he slipped it off and set it aside as he began working on his shirt and his armor. I thought I spotted a chunk of potato stuck in the tiny metal plates…

 _Goddammit._

"Miss Hollander," Thorin ground out, obviously trying his hardest not to throttle me. He had already been in a bad mood because of Gandalf, so this probably didn't help matters. "It would be a benefit to all of us should you pay attention to your surroundings," he said vehemently, meeting my eyes. I could only give a small nod as I hunched my shoulders sheepishly.

Nobody was saying anything, waiting for the drama to either blow up or fizzle out.

It was about then, right as I was ready to curl up in humiliation and as he was still patting his shirt down, that he paused.

Thorin's expression shifted. It wasn't a good shift, either. His eyes widened a bit and he looked down at his clothing like there was something incredibly wrong with it, and I frowned, trying to figure out what was going on.

Then he reached into his overcoat, on the side that had literally taken most of the stew, and pulled out…

Oh no.

 _Oh no._

I heard several Company members stand up to see what their king had pulled out of his pocket. Dwalin was beside Thorin by that point, and next to him, Balin had joined as well. I felt more than saw Bofur come up to my side to take a peek, too, as others started to cluster.

In all its halfway broth-saturated glory, still neatly folded, Thror's Map was revealed. Thorin met my eyes once more with a look that had a chance of either meaning 'oh shit' or… 'never come within a mile of me ever again', and I was hoping desperately that it was the first option.

He began to carefully unfold it as the Company murmured around us, asking if it was still legible. Asking if it had been damaged too terribly.

"Can ye still make everything out, lad?" Balin asked.

There was a long pause as Thorin scanned the fully opened map, inspecting it. There were large blotches of reddish-brown across half of it, coloring the paper darker. I wasn't so much worried about the runes still being legible as I was worried about the sentiment behind it. I mean, I had the whole thing permanently on my arm if worse came to worse, but that map was a link to his father and grandfather. I didn't want to be the ass who ruined it.

However, relying on Supergirl over here for a remaining copy of the map would have been less than ideal in his eyes, I was willing to bet.

"All is well," Thorin finally said after a tense moment, earning a few murmurs of relief from the others as they took a few steps back. When Thorin stepped forward, in my direction, I grew worried that he was coming over to rant about my spacing out. We locked eyes again, but he said nothing, instead setting the map down gently on the crate so that it could dry.

My relief was instant. I looked around briefly before spotting half a brick on the ground nearby, bending to grab it and hand it to him as a sort of apology. He stared at it like he was tempted to refuse it out of spite, but wound up taking the makeshift paperweight all the same. Thorin set it on one corner of the map while I bent to grab another bit of brick, hoping this tiny interaction meant I was mostly forgiven.

Before I could even hand it off, though, we were interrupted.

"Trolls! Trolls have taken the ponies!"

I turned to see Fili running up the hill towards us, shouting the announcement. The Dwarves began making worrisome noises, all pretty much having the same shocked reaction, as I was having a mini heart attack.

Thorin froze and jerked his head up as his nephew arrived at the edge of the farmhouse. "What?" he demanded, glancing around for another young Dwarf that was nowhere to be found. "Where's Kili?"

"He's with Bilbo," Fili answered quickly. "We must hurry – our burglar was trying to sneak past the Trolls and free the ponies when I left."

The whole place was instantly full of activity. Every Dwarf turned to grab their weapons, wherever they had left them sitting, and I was still standing in the exact same spot, clutching the tiny paperweight, wondering what the hell to do. Should I just chill here? Should I go purely to watch through some bushes?

It took the group all of three seconds to gather their things. Fili had already split the scene, eager to get back to his brother, with several others ready to follow as soon as Thorin made the call. As I caught sight of the Ur Family revving up, so did he.

"Bofur!" Thorin barked.

The Miner already had his heavy mattock in hand, momentum making it difficult for him to come to a grinding halt at the edge of the hill. "Aye? What is it?" Bofur asked.

"Stay with Miss Hollander," commanded Thorin with a glance in my direction that caused me to tense up, adjusting his grip on his sword as he sprinted out of the farmhouse and out of sight.

The rest of the Company followed their King, Bombur and Bifur pausing momentarily to share a look with Bofur. Of course, Bofur simply waved them on casually like someone missing a pizza party, letting his mining mattock slide to the ground again with a heavy thunk.

"Go on, you two! Don't miss the action on our account!" he called out to them. They hesitated, but wound up giving nods and continuing after the others with the same fervor as before. The rustle of bushes and the thud of Dwarven boots faded away into the forest on that note, leaving just me, Bofur, and a whole lot of luggage in the farmhouse.

It was… abnormally quiet.

"I suppose this is where the waitin' game begins then," he sighed, leaning on his mattock. He turned away from the forest, heaving the massive tool over his shoulder before taking a couple steps across the dilapidated building and setting it back down in its original spot.

I did nothing for a few long seconds, still holding the bit of brick that I had been about to hand off to Thorin. Glancing down at the map awkwardly, I went ahead and set the weight on the opposite end of the paper so it wouldn't blow away, and so it would dry a little flatter. Though the right half of the map that held the Lonely Mountain was dry, the other half – the half with the hand pointing – was pretty damp.

My luck with Thorin so far made me want to go hop in the Trolls' cooking pot and save myself anymore future trouble with him.

Bofur shuffled over to where I was staring at the map, popping up to peek over my shoulder at the map then at myself. "At least it's all in one piece," he commented. "Not that it would've been the end of the quest or anythin'. We've still got you, after all – our wee backup plan, if ye don't mind my sayin' as much."

I knew he was just trying to keep me from worrying about the others. Even though I _was_ a little worried, it was probably for a different reason than he was thinking. If Bofur wasn't with them, would things change? Would events be altered too drastically by taking away one single Dwarf? I began walking back and forth between one end of the farmhouse to the other, knowing it wouldn't be that odd for me to appear nervous now.

Should we go after them? If they were in the middle of negotiating with the Trolls, would we startle the massive creatures and get someone crushed to death? If we were caught, would they bother putting us in sacks, or would they just eat us immediately after dealing with the aggravation of the others? Alternatively, if we _didn't_ go, would the Company still get out just the same? Or would one of our friends be brutally murdered because Bofur wasn't there to cover their back in the initial fight?

Oh God, I was gonna hurl if these questions didn't stop floating around in my head.

"They'll have it all figured out in no time, lass," Bofur kept chatting away, picking up a stick to stoke the fire with and having a seat beside the warmth. "Dwarves are sturdy folk – those Trolls won't stand a chance. Especially against the likes of Bifur. Why, I remember the first time I saw him properly riled. It was a little gathering we had several decades ago – don't even think my mustache was but fuzz at the time – and some ticklebrain decided to pick on our Bombur."

This drew my attention, and I was able to stop pacing without feeling ready to explode.

Bofur went on to tell me of the great showdown that Bifur had with the… uh, _ticklebrain_ as he called him. The calamity resulted in two smashed tables, an obliterated chair, and a large amount of ale on the floor, not to mention an angry Dwarrowdam who had to buy find new furniture afterwards. He continued the story into their assisting the lady Dwarf with the new furnishings, and I was eventually able to make myself sit down next to the fire as well, letting him shift the tale into other stories to pass the time.

Though my comrade was incredibly talented with keeping my worries at bay, he was beginning to get antsy himself after about the third little anecdote. Normally, Bofur wasn't one to become anxious easily, but he had no way of knowing how his family and friends were faring against the Trolls. With each of his glances back to the forest, I realized I didn't know the true answer to that question anymore either and it was unsettling.

I have no idea how much time passed before Bofur stood up again, unable to stay calmly seated any longer. It had been half an hour, at most, but my perception of time was really messed up in this place, especially with how on edge I was.

Trying to see any sign of activity, Bofur padded over to the edge of the farmhouse, near the beam that Bilbo and I were earlier that evening. He stared out, having given up the pretense of complete nonchalance that he'd shown for my sake.

"They've been quite a while now," Bofur said, propping his hands on his hips as he tapped a foot. The action gave him the appearance of a worried mother, and he took a look back to me, asking with a huff, "What do ye think, Jenna? Should we go check on 'em? Make sure… nothin' went wrong?"

Good lord. His normal aura of sunshine was waning into a cloud of unease and it made me feel like the worst actual person in the world. Bofur was not meant to be this way. It was like watching Pikachu cry or something. He needed his smile back, pronto.

 _Screw it,_ I thought, getting to my feet. If nothing else, we could just go assess the situation and make sure everyone was okay. At my action, Bofur seemed to bounce back to life and moved to grab his mattock so we could leave.

That was about when shit hit the fan.

I had barely taken a step when I caught sight of movement in my peripheral. There was no time to warn Bofur when a tall figure lurched in his direction from out of the shadows, before he could grab his weapon, causing the Dwarf to holler in surprise as they collided. A struggle began as they crashed to the ground, and while frozen in shock, I caught sight of blonde hair. I recognized the intruder almost instantly.

My heart gave a jolt of terror as I heard the rustle of fabric behind me and I spun around. Just in time, too, as my wide eyes locked onto the leering face of Jean, not three feet away. He stepped over the brick wall effortlessly thanks to his long legs, heading my way with purpose.

"Miss _Hollander_ ," greeted Jean with a smirk, just as creepy as I remembered.

I backed up rapidly until the backs of my calves hit the crate, trying desperately to keep space between us. The fuck…? Why were _these_ guys here?!

There was a giant _clang_ as the stew pot was kicked from its position over the fire, scattering a few half lit twigs beneath it when it landed. I flicked my eyes over to see Bofur having pinned Gavin, the source of the flailing feet and some raging curses, and my hopes lifted for the situation.

Of course, my attention should have never left Jean.

Next thing I knew, the guy was hurtling towards me. I panicked and made a mad dash in Bofur's direction, which was easily intercepted as my upper arm was snagged. The sudden grip was tight enough to make me gasp in pain and reflexively jerk back. His grasp held strong, however, causing my alarm to rise.

"You travel with the one they call Thorin Oakenshield," Jean said confidently, out of the blue.

I stopped moving and stared at him. My first instinct was to shake my head, which only pissed him off.

"Do _not_ lie to me!" he snarled. I didn't even see his hand move, but next thing I knew, I was on the ground blinking up at him in a daze. That was when the pain caught up and the side of my face began throbbing, my cheekbone definitely having met some knuckles.

"Ye keep your hands offa her! You miserable excuse of an arse-lickin' little – " Bofur's insult was cut off with a grunt, Gavin turning the tables as the Dwarf became distracted. I looked over in time to see Gavin jolt up from the ground and thrust a shoulder into Bofur's stomach, heaving him to the floor again.

I grew enraged, pushing the pain in my face away as I scrambled to help my friend, just getting to my hands and knees when Jean tried to shove a boot in my ribs. I barely managed to hike myself up in time for his foot to fly under my stomach and crunch into the wood of the crate behind me, splinters breaking off every which way. The same crate holding Thror's Map.

Jean yanked his foot back and wound up taking the whole box with him. Unfortunately, this meant the paperweights holding the map down slid off and said map fluttered off onto the floor in between us. I glanced at it worriedly as Jean kicked out and sent the box flying right off his foot, barely missing me.

As the man stalked my way again, I frantically looked around for something to use as a weapon. The remains of the crate? My backpack? _Shit…! There's nothing to use!_ Jean's foot slid on the paper when he stepped, causing him to stumble and glance downward, and I grabbed the first thing near me.

A stick that had been tossed from the fire, one end still smoldering.

By that point, Jean had righted himself, thankfully ignoring the map, but then he lunged at me. My agility was nothing compared to his, so my sad attempt to dodge was thwarted when he jumped forward and grabbed the crook of my neck. His fingers dug into the tender area and I lashed out with the stick, shoving the glowing red tip against his own neck.

Jean screamed, releasing his grip. The victory was short-lived, because no sooner had he let go than he landed a blow in my stomach, causing me to double over and drop my temporary weapon. I heard it clatter to the ground somewhere nearby in my haze of pain. I couldn't even react before he slid behind me and wrapped an arm around my throat, yanking me back upright as something cold was held against my neck. My hands flew up to grab the arm instinctively. Oh God. Holy shit. This… this was a new sort of terror.

"Enough! _Dwarf!_ " Jean shouted. I was finally able to take in the scene on the opposite side of the campfire, Bofur having Gavin in a chokehold, trying to knock him out. My friend froze when he saw us. I'm sure my look of absolute fear didn't help any.

Immediately – of course – Bofur dropped his arm, took a step back, and slowly raised his hands. He was quite a sight; covered in soot, hat sitting so crookedly that it was almost backwards, and his lip was bloodied. I met his eyes then and knew we were having the same thought:

 _Fuck these guys._

Gavin fell forward onto his hands and knees, coughing violently for a long minute. Eventually, he stumbled to his feet and gave the Dwarf a wide berth. "Tell us…" He paused to take in another breath, before continuing, "Tell us where Thorin Oakenshield is."

There was a nerve-racking silence while Bofur stared the two Men down, a test of who was more intimidated. That was, until the arm around my neck tightened and the pressure from what must have been a blade increased.

"We haven't the slightest," Bofur quickly said with a glare. When Jean tensed up, ready to claim lies again, he added, "Him and the others ran off ages ago to find our missing ponies."

It was probably a good thing he didn't mention the Trolls. Should these two assholes find the Company in a vulnerable state (like, oh I don't know, stuffed in potato sacks), then it would only end badly. Or they would just stumble upon the Trolls themselves and be eaten. Clever Bofur.

"How convenient," Gavin spat, narrowing his already squinting eyes, super salty that he had been losing the fight. He turned to his brother, grumbling, "Missing ponies, my arse… This bounty better be worth it, I swear. I'll not be dealing with these _dogs_ ever again once we're through."

I sucked in a breath through my nose, realization hitting like a ton of bricks. _The bounty!_ That's what these douche lords were after? The bounty on Thorin?

Bofur straightened up, frowning. "Bounty? What are you two goin' on about?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Jean asked, a little too amused now that he had the upper hand. "Lovely little bounty on Thorin Oakenshield's head – did he not tell you? I'm sure he's figured it out by now."

I scowled, digging my nails into the arm that held me. Jean twisted his torso quickly and jerked me around, snuffing out my brief attitude as he hissed, "That's enough of that, little witch."

"Just let the lass be. She don't know anything either," Bofur said as he put one foot forward cautiously. He stopped abruptly when Jean began to move to the side, towards the exit gap of the ruins.

Gavin, on the other hand, was trying to maneuver the opposite direction.

"What're you doing? I said she don't know anything!" Bofur continued, growing more concerned as to why they weren't letting me go. While this fact concerned me as well, I realized his focus was drawn our direction and not where it should have been.

My eyes widened when I saw Gavin duck down, grab a loose brick, and leap forward in one swift movement. I quickly dropped one hand from Jean's arm to point behind Bofur, flailing against my captor and kicking behind me to try and hit some shins, but it was too late.

Bofur slumped to the ground like a ragdoll. I could only stare in shock. Gavin let the brick fall out of his hand and land next to the Dwarf he'd just knocked out with it, brushing his hands off on his pants like it was no big deal. Like he hadn't just hit my friend over the head with a blow that had the potential to kill a Man.

I had never been so angry in my life.

The flailing began anew, rage flooding my body right up until the knife found its way back to my neck. I grit my teeth and seethed, knowing there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to die. Much to my embarrassment, my eyes began watering. I didn't want to cry in front of these… these pricks!

"I think we upset her, Jean," Gavin said mockingly, stepping around my unconscious friend. I glared at the blonde wanting nothing more than to kick his face in.

Jean gave a deep sigh, seeming annoyed, and responded with, "I don't give a damn. This took much longer than it should've."

"Don't get snippy with _me_ now. Lord knows I've tried my best to catch her at a better time, but they don't let her out of their sight for more than a few minutes," Gavin complained like I wasn't even there.

"Yes, yes, I know," Jean interrupted. "It doesn't matter now – we've got her, so let's go."

I didn't know what to do. It was still dark, and I had no idea how long it would be before the sun rose and the Company came back. Or before Bofur woke up.

My very blood seemed to chill. _Oh god, please let him wake up._ He was so still. Was he breathing? I couldn't see from here, dammit! Why did they even need me? Why wouldn't they just let me –

Jean began dragging me away from the area when something on the floor caught my attention. On the opposite side of the fire, where I had my tussle with Jean, there was a tiny light. Smoke as well? I struggled to see out of the corner of my eye, through the blur of my tears, what it could be.

I recognized the stick with the smoldering tip I had used in my fight.

I also recognized the piece of paper it had landed on.

Jean gave me another strike to the head when I refused to move my feet, sending me into a half-conscious state as he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and it was in that moment that I wondered how things could possibly get any worse.

Of course, I should have known better by then.

Things could _always_ get worse.

* * *

 _ **Please don't murder me too brutally. ;)**_

 _ **If it's any consolation, I already have the next chapter planned out better than I had this one, so it shouldn't take quite as long. That being said, thank you all again for your support and your feedback. It means the world to me.**_

 _ **Now to nurse the massive headache I got from writing all day. :D**_

 _ **Until next time~!**_


	17. The Run

_**Hello, my beautiful readers! I've tried not to keep you waiting so long this time, since that was such a cruel cliffhanger. (LoL I couldn't help myself. Your reactions were priceless.) A massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited, etc. It lets me know you're enjoying what I put out, so thank you. :)**_

 ** _I will give fair warning though:_ this chapter contains violence and attempted sexual assault. **

_**I don't plan on upping the rating for this story for just violence, because The Hobbit movies are already a violent thing on their own. However, I know sexual violence is completely different, and that is why I just wanted to give you a heads up even if it is just a tiny scene.**_

 ** _Now._**

 ** _I will let you read already. You have all been so patient. :)_**

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

The world was swaying, lurching. My head felt like fifteen garden gnomes had taken up residence inside my skull, going at it with pickaxes.

"They couldn't have gone far."

"Depends. If they really did lose their ponies, they could be anywhere."

"Don't tell me you believe that load of…"

"Do you see any ponies, Gavin?"

Oh my God, my head hurt so much… The world wasn't just swaying anymore, but spinning. I felt so light, like gravity had stopped working, and I was sure I passed out properly this time. When consciousness finally started its return, I struggled to open my eyes.

"What do you propose we do then, eh?"

"We wait."

"Wait? Wait for what? We can't collect a bounty if he's been eaten!"

"Be quiet, you dolt! Don't you think I know that?"

What the hell…? I was just staring at a blue cloth… no, wait. It was a shirt. I looked up and wound up staring at the ground and the backs of some legs walking, which confused me greatly. Up is down, down is up; what was happening? How long was I out for? It was still relatively dark, though there was a certain chill to the air that made me think some time had passed – but how much?

Slowly, things began coming back to me, and I realized the world wasn't upside down – I was. Jean's arm was wrapped tightly around my torso, keeping me in place on his shoulder. I have to say, it was not the most comfortable place to hang out, since his wiry frame was digging into my stomach, but somehow I didn't think they were concerned with my comfort. I didn't want them to know I was awake before I could get a feel of the situation, and it took a great deal of willpower not to wiggle for a less painful position.

I felt something tickle my neck and tried to covertly tilt my head to figure out what it was. There was a… a thin cord? Then it hit me. Literally, my whistle tapped me on the ear and I realized it must have slipped out of my shirt, now dangling beside my face. I thanked every deity that it hadn't slipped off my neck completely while I was out.

"If you knew anything at all, you'd know how Trolls worked, Gavin," said the man holding me. "They turn to stone in daylight."

Oh. So they'd found the Company then, I supposed? _Shit._ It dawned on me then, that even if I managed to get the whistle in my mouth in this position, the others wouldn't be able to come get me while they were tied in sacks. It wasn't daylight yet, so that meant they were still trapped. I had to wait for the right time.

"Well how does that help us _now_?" I recognized the voice of Gavin asking.

The shoulder beneath me readjusted, and I tried not to tense up when it dug into my abdomen further.

"If you'd been listening back there then… agh, just – take her for a while, would you? Heavy little witch…"

 _Well excuse the fuck outta me, Mister._

I quickly closed my eyes and tried to remain limp, which was easier said than done. Jean crouched down and basically just dropped me on top of forest floor debris, tiny pebbles poking into the back of my head and several twigs stabbing through my clothes. Obviously, because I am a human being, I flinched.

There was a long pause. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the shouting of several voices, followed by the rumbling of lower ones. Correction: _Bigger_ ones. The Company was so close!

"Seems like we've got ourselves a performer," Gavin said, very close to my face. Suddenly I was yanked up by my arm and my eyes flew open automatically, giving away my badly portrayed act as I was brought to my feet.

It was dark, but I could still make out the two Men before me. Despite my lightheadedness, the sight of them pissed me off again, and I clenched my teeth as I remembered what they did to Bofur. The nicest Dwarf you would ever meet and they hit him over the head with a brick.

"You were right about her voice, lucky for us," Gavin chuckled. "She really can't make a peep."

Jean wasn't as impressed by this revelation, scanning through the forest, not bothering to glance our way. "I told you as much," he said offhandedly.

How long had these guys been following us? Since we left Bree? The thought sent a chill up my spine. Those shadows and sounds that I'd brushed off as a breeze or as wildlife… Next to the creek, when I accidentally splashed Thorin. God, had they been there, watching us? It made me want to hurl. If I had told Thorin what I heard instead of assuming it was paranoia, would it have prevented any of this?

I looked in the direction that Jean was staring, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Through the trees, barely visible, was a dot of orange light. The Trolls were probably attempting to cook my friends on a spit by now, the others stuck in bags like groceries. Defenseless. If these creeps made a move…

"It'll take them a while to deal with the ones they've got cooking," Jean said, obviously formulating a plan. "You saw Oakenshield – he was in the other pile, right in front of their faces. They'll see us if we try to sneak him out."

"Plus the others might start making a racket and give us away. They ain't mute like this one," Gavin tossed in.

"Yeah... By the time those Trolls finish with the first lot, dawn will be close," the brunette said. He turned away from the trees, giving me a once over before taking a few steps in thought. "If we can wait, and make sure Oakenshield isn't eaten before then, we could distract the Trolls long enough for the sun to rise. Half the Dwarves'll be out of our hair and the others will still be bagged up."

My heart was going crazy, thumping away in my ears as I tried to think of how to escape. Gavin's hold on me had loosened slightly as he listened to his brother's plan, and I knew this was my window. If I bolted now, I could… I could… Dammit, what _could_ I do? Find Gandalf? I had no idea how far away he still was. Head for the Troll camp? The Company wouldn't be able to help me. If anything, that plan seemed likely to get me tied up with the others or eaten straight away.

I decided I'd take my chances.

As Jean began talking again, I yanked my arm out of Gavin's grip and launched myself in the direction of the orange light. They both cursed as I began my bolt to freedom with rapid footsteps behind me, but I only managed a few yards before the hood of my jacket was yanked backwards. I fell flat on my back, _hard_ , and it knocked the wind from my lungs.

Jean stared down at me and a knife suddenly appeared in my line of vision. He crouched and put the blade against my neck as I lay there, trying to breathe properly.

"Just kill her already! This bitch has caused us more trouble than any I've seen," Gavin urged, probably just bitter that I managed to slip away again. "We won't need a hostage anymore. The plan has changed."

I thought I was going to die. My throat felt thick as I grew terrified, more tears trying to surface. I was really going to die like this, at the hands of a random man. Not a Goblin, or an Orc, or a Warg. No. I hadn't even made it that far. I would die before we even reached Rivendell. I would die, and if I died, so would any hope of saving Thorin, and Fili, and Kili. Hell, would they even be able to get into Erebor? The last time I saw the map, it had sort of been on _fire_ , and I was the only other copy.

I had ruined the quest, barely even a month in.

"You're right."

I closed my eyes.

"The plan _has_ changed."

Suddenly the knife was pulled away, and I was yanked up by my already very sore arm, causing me to open my eyes in confusion. I glanced between Gavin and Jean wildly, trying to figure out how I was still alive. Holy sonofabitch, _how was I still alive?_

Gavin seemed pissed off and asked, "What are you _doing?_ "

"Making sure we have a distraction for the Trolls," Jean answered calmly, jerking me back and shoving me in the other's direction.

I stumbled forward and was caught by Gavin's rough grip, one hand on my arm and one at the crook of my neck. He said with exasperation, "We could've come up with something less… irritating."

"Irritating she may be, but I have no desire to be caught and trussed up like _them_ ," Jean said with a tip of his head in the Dwarves' direction. "Tossing her in there as a diversion is just what we need."

This was both a relief and a nightmare.

On the one hand, I wasn't going to die this very moment. They would keep me alive and throw me to the Trolls so they could kidnap and subsequently murder Thorin Oakenshield. There was a chance of survival for both of us if I could escape the Trolls and stop them in time (ha, right). On the other hand… I was stuck with these bastards until dawn.

My hands went clammy.

Jean stood up a little straighter as he looked towards the fire, like he had seen something, and slid his knife back in its sheath. "Take her back to camp, pack our things, and wait for me. Be ready when I return. I need to see what's happening," he warned, and glanced back at Gavin before adding, "And don't do anything _stupid_."

Gavin scoffed as his brother started making his way to the Troll camp briskly, but quietly. He snuck away into the darkness, leaving me with the last person on Middle Earth I wanted to be stuck with. Excepting maybe Azog or perhaps Sauron himself.

"Come on then, _Miss Hollander_ ," Gavin spit out, pulling me after him. It made me wonder why they bothered to remember my name at all if they were just going to use it as a curse.

I had no idea how far away their camp was, but I realized I could see our surroundings better as he dragged me along. The forest floor wasn't pitch black anymore, but a dull grey, and my steps came easier since I wasn't tripping over twigs. The change in light made me glance upwards. Through the trees, I spotted the sky.

Dawn was closer than I thought.

"Hurry up!" Gavin scolded when I stopped paying attention to my pace. I glared at him to no effect, simply earning another jerk of my arm that caused me to stumble again.

It wasn't long before we reached an empty patch of forest. It wasn't big enough to be called a clearing, in my opinion, just enough room in it for Tweedledee and Tweedledum. There were a few camping supplies, but they had obviously been travelling light for speed and stealth. The two bedrolls, and their bags, with a few various items that looked like they were dropped midway through their usage – I recognized a blade sharpener among them.

Gavin didn't waste any time pulling me with him to the center, bending to grab something from his bag. As he bent, I shoved his side with my free hand, hoping to throw him off balance and make him let go. Yes, it threw him off balance, but no, he did not let go. In fact, his grip around my wrist tightened as he threw his other foot out to catch himself, standing upright with a death glare. I'd only pissed him off more.

"You are pushing your luck, _wench_ ," he hissed out, pulling me forward. I drew my head back with a grimace when I could feel his breath across my face.

What he grabbed from the bag was rope, I realized as he spun me around and shoved me to the dirt. I landed hard on my chest and he pulled my arms behind my back, wrapping my wrists together tightly. The tension in my limbs being at such an angle was already bad enough, but then I felt a stinging on my upper arm and I just knew my cut had opened back up. This motherfucker…

"Don't move again or I'll throw you to the Trolls right now, regardless of what Jean says," Gavin said testily, pushing off of me to stand and crushing my ribs into the earth in the process.

So I didn't. Much to my shame, I let my forehead thump onto the ground under me as I lay there, on my stomach, tied up like a fucking damsel in distress. It's what I was, honestly. If I couldn't get out of here with my hands free, how did I think I would do it with both hands _literally_ tied behind my back?

I sighed shakily. My head hurt. My face hurt. My arms hurt, my stomach hurt, my everything hurt. I hoped Yavanna was having a grand ole laugh right about then, because I sure as hell wasn't amused. I wanted to cry. Oh, wait, shit. Yeah, I was already crying. Oops.

I turned my head away from Gavin's direction so I could let the little tears slide down the side of my face. Like I was about to let him have that satisfaction of seeing that. It wasn't a proud moment for me, stuck there, listening to my kidnapper roll up sleeping bags, and pack away gear.

As he continued the cleanup, however, I realized there was a noise that I hadn't registered before: Birds. Birds were chirping! It was then I noticed colors coming back to the world. From my poor vantage point on the ground, the grass began to look greener, the tree trunks around us just a little more brown. I turned my head a little further to peek at the sky from the corner of my vision.

 _Daylight?_

Somewhere in the distance, there was a very great, very brief rumble. The sky was clear, so I knew it wasn't thunder, and it didn't feel like an earthquake. Maybe a landslide? Or maybe… half of a giant rock splitting and falling to the ground? My heart rate picked up.

"What on earth…? Damn Trolls…" I heard Gavin mutter, pausing his activity for a moment.

I rolled onto my back – and subsequently, my arms – in order to sit up straight and take a look around. Once upright, I just saw layers and layers of trees and shrubs in every direction, but it was definitely lighter now. Then I caught Gavin eyeballing me with a tight jaw.

"Thought I told you not to move," he said, oddly calm. It was unsettling to the maximum degree, not helped in the least by the way his eyes roved down to where they shouldn't.

Eventually, thankfully, Gavin pulled his gaze away and sat down beside their newly packed bags. He brought out a piece of dried meat and munched on that for a while, glancing over at me every so often. I didn't like it one bit, trying to think of a way to get my whistle to my mouth without him seeing. His attention never left me for long enough, though, and when he finished his snack, I still had nothing. No plan, no clever scheme. Just clammy hands and a sense of dread.

The man dusted his hands off as he stood again. My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I could only stare as he slinked over, crouching down beside me.

"You know," Gavin commented in a casual fashion. He laid a hand on my shoulder in a sick display of false goodwill. "I never got to pay you back for my nose."

I paled.

As soon as that predatory look sunk in, I tried to jerk my shoulder from his grasp, only causing him to strengthen his grip and grab the other shoulder as well. I went to bite his forearm, but he tilted it away and shoved me backwards onto the ground, causing my teeth to clack together loudly.

"Not so fast, you little viper. Don't you think I deserve a little fun after what you did?" he asked sardonically, adding a click of his tongue at the end, shaking his head.

 _Um, fuck no?!_ I thought in a panic. I tried to lash out with my feet, so he simply lifted a leg over and sat on top of me, on my hips, rendering me completely immobile. No matter how much I dug my boots into the ground, I didn't have enough leverage or strength to lift myself, and I couldn't even get a good hit into his back with my knees at this angle either.

I thought of the whistle around my neck before that hope was dashed as well. I realized there was no way I could get it to my mouth like this, and even if I could, the monster on top of me would just stop my cry for help before it even began.

I tilted my head away to stare at a tree, disbelieving. I didn't want to watch this. Any of it. When a breeze hit my bare torso, I felt ill, and I realized he had lifted my shirt up to my collar bone, revealing my bra. His other hand glided across the exposed skin of my stomach, sliding upwards over my ribcage, towards my breasts… _No no, please, no._ This couldn't be happening. This was _not_ happening.

"You've been nothing a pain in our necks. I'm going to enjoy mak…" He suddenly trailed off with a frown, eyes darting away. When he straightened up, removing his hand from my person, thank _fuck_ , I noticed a sound heading our way.

Footsteps. It was definitely footsteps, rushing through the forest, kicking up leaves. My heart leapt into my throat as my hopes rose, until I realized the steps were too light. Too long-legged. I wanted to sob. It wasn't any Dwarf.

This was proven when, moments later, Jean pushed through the foliage. Judging by the look on his face, things had taken a different turn than he planned, and he was especially not happy with the sight before him.

"What are you doing, nitwit? I told you not to do anything _stupid_ , did I not? To be ready when I came back?" Jean stormed. He put his hands on his hips before looking to the sky momentarily with a huff, then glared back at us, saying, "Doesn't matter. You can play later – we have a bigger problem."

Gavin glanced down at me with a sneer, shoving off of me to stand up and walk over to Jean, who had started pacing. I didn't know what to feel. Relieved? No. I wasn't out of the woods quite yet. I couldn't even pull my shirt back down, but I wriggled to sit up again all the same, despite what it caused last time.

"What's the problem?" Gavin asked quickly.

Jean ceased movement, rounding on his companion, and said, "A Wizard, Gavin. The fucking Wizard we saw in Bree is with them! Everything was going fine – they had their own distraction going, and we wouldn't even have needed to come back with our own, but then _he_ shows up! Breaks a boulder in two, lets a little sunshine in, and next thing I know, the Trolls are stone. Like we wanted them to be."

"And you… couldn't get to – "

"No, I couldn't reach Oakenshield, you dolt!" Jean interrupted, absolutely peeved. "Did you miss everything I just said? They have a _Wizard_."

Gavin didn't respond for a long time, but eventually asked, "So what do we do?"

Jean seemed thoughtful, his pacing having started again as he put his hands back on his hips. He stopped after a second, looked to me with a malice that made me cower, and stated, "We go back to our original plan - hostage. Get Oakenshield to hand himself over otherwise we slit her throat."

"Will that still work with them having a Wizard and all?" Gavin questioned, leering at me.

"Who knows," answered Jean indignantly as he turned away, more irritated than I'd seen him yet. He grabbed his bag and the bedrolls, heaving them over his shoulders. "I will take these if you take her. We should get going before they realize their whore is gone."

I became ticked off at the insults they kept hurling, but he had already started walking in the direction opposite of the way the Company was. Gavin was murmuring something, glancing the way his brother went while making his way towards his bag. His back was turned. It was now or never.

Bending forward as much as my bound arms would let me, I grabbed the cord between my teeth and pulled it upwards to rest on the folds of my hoodie collar. From there, I wrapped my mouth around the end, taking the deepest breath possible.

The shrill sound pierced the air and startled Gavin. After he recovered and realized what was going on, he lunged across the clearing to stop the noise, but I fell onto my back and threw out my feet, jamming my boot into his crotch. He doubled over, and I kept on blowing the whistle for as long as I could, up until Gavin recovered enough to grab my ankles.

"You _bitch –_ You're gonna regret that!" he shouted, throwing himself on top of me and snagging the cord of the whistle, pulling it from my mouth. He wrenched the string, snapping it painfully against my neck, and tossed it aside. I watched with wide eyes as my gift tumbled away, out of my reach.

I was momentarily stunned when the back of a hand came down across my face, stinging like no tomorrow. Flinching, I realized I couldn't lift myself up, as he had his body on top of my legs and one hand on my throat.

"I don't care what the _plan_ is, I've had enough of you," Gavin sneered. He reached behind him, pulling a tiny knife from his belt.

God, I didn't think this far ahead. I could only wriggle, trying my hardest to escape, but nothing was working! I was trapped good and well this time, and I knew death was about five seconds away. Either the Dwarves arrived on time or they didn't. There was no in-between for me now. I was toast.

Of course, that's when I heard it.

Another rumble. Not like the last one, though, like the rock that Gandalf had split. This was closer, and lighter. Not an earthy sound, but more like a… motor? The noise confused me, because it certainly wasn't footsteps, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the knife Gavin had pulled out. He was saying something about gutting me, more threats that I didn't want to hear, while I was concentrating on the sound.

It grew closer, stopping momentarily, then beginning anew. And I realized it wasn't rumbling.

It was _growling_.

Somewhere through the trees, in the direction Jean had gone, there was a shout of terror. Only then did Gavin freeze, snapping his head up with wide eyes. The sounds of forestry being disturbed during a struggle reached us, followed by a shriek, and then a hush.

Still staring at the trees, Gavin called out, "Jean?!"

The growling started up again, right beside us.

I quickly turned my head to look for the source, just as a massive set of snarling teeth burst through the bushes. There was no time to brace myself or for the man above me to react.

The gnashing jaws clamped down on Gavin's torso, a giant paw the size of a dinner plate narrowly missing my head as it landed, claws digging into the dirt. I had barely recognized the creature as a Warg before the screaming began. My mind blanked, pure fear coursing through my body. Oh God, I can't tell you how that sound still haunts me.

Gavin screamed so unbearably – so _loudly_ and _desperately_ – thrashing around in his panic, knees digging into my own legs before he was completely lifted off of me. I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes, turning my head away as much as possible when I heard a revolting _'CRUNCH'._ Something… _Oh fuck, please no, don't let that be…_ something warm dripped down onto me, onto my face, my neck… The scent of blood hit me like a tidal wave and I gagged, still refusing to look upward. I could feel the beast shake its head, splattering more droplets everywhere as Gavin's shrieks turned to gurgles. Then he was silent.

I was quivering. The dead weight of the Man was suddenly released, falling on top of me. When he landed so heavily, I gasped for air and opened my eyes, lungs feeling crushed beneath what was now a corpse.

My breath was too loud.

The Warg's ears flicked and its nostrils flared as it scented the air. Suddenly it was looking down upon me, the thunderous growl vibrating the ground as it realized there was a survivor beneath its previous victim. This thing was _enormous_ – so much bigger, so much more dangerous than I ever imagined. Its sharp teeth, with canines longer than my some of my fingers, were dripping crimson as it prepared to strike again.

I could only watch.

Those golden liquid eyes bore into me. Its lips curled up, twitching as it snarled.

 _'THWACK.'_

I didn't have time to register the _whoosh_ sound before an arrow was suddenly imbedded in the Warg's skull. Right above the eyes I had been staring at, waiting for death.

"Jenna!"

The Warg collapsed right next to me, the fur of its neck brushing against my face. My mouth had fallen open as I tried to regain oxygen, my breathing too rapid for me to actually succeed. The world was turning into a pinpoint.

The weight of Gavin's body was suddenly rolled off of me. There were voices, but they sounded so muffled and so far away, like everything was underwater. God, I couldn't breathe. My head was so light.

"Is she alright? What… What's wrong with her? Is she hurt?"

"No, don't look like any of that's hers. She's just in shock, lad."

"Miss Hollander?"

My shoulders felt like fire when the ropes were suddenly cut, and my arms were free. When did I sit up? I didn't remember sitting up… I was grabbing someone's hand but I didn't know who, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of a large ring. Something that felt like smooth leather. An arm guard of some kind. The grip was sturdy, though nothing like the ones that had been on me all morning. This grip was careful. A second hand was at my elbow, the world trying to right itself.

"Miss Hollander."

I knew that voice. _Thick hot chocolate_ , my mind supplied. The world wasn't spinning so badly. Was gravity finally working again? _Come on, use your lungs, you potato._ In, out. In, out… Nice. Keep going.

" _Jenna._ "

I began blinking, the shroud around my vision clearing up as I tried to see who was in front of me. I mean, I knew who it was, but why did he use my first name? He never used my first name… There was the armor and the familiar blue fabric. Huh… No fur-lined coat, though. There were the two shiny beads that held the braids. Silver streaked hair. The neatly trimmed beard. Yeah, there's his pointy nose too…

Oh.

Then I could see him: Thorin Oakenshield. Those blue eyes, right there in front of me, searching for any indication that I had come back to reality. He was down on one knee, urging me to focus, and I tried to hear what he was saying. The noise of the world rushed back as I heard the rustling of trees and howling in the distance.

"We must go, _now_. Are you able to stand?" he asked.

I found myself nodding, even though I wasn't a hundred percent sure if my legs would cooperate. Thorin was here, so that had to be a good sign, right?

"We'd best get a move on if we don't want to wind up like _him_ ," said Dwalin, who I only then noticed was standing a few feet away, with a nod to the corpse nearby (that I didn't dare look at). His two battle axes were at the ready as he glanced about the area.

Beside him was Kili, bow in hand, watching me with concern. I was suddenly glad this nerd had skipped Iglishmêk lessons to practice archery or I might've been dead. There was no time to thank him just yet, though.

Thorin helped me stand on unsteady legs. They had all the stability of Jello, but the strong hand holding mine never left, and I was able to regain my balance as his other hand slid upwards from my elbow to my shoulder. However, on the way, he rubbed over my newly opened cut. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and the hand was immediately gone.

I noticed Thorin's eyes dart from my injured arm, to each side of my sore face, to the blood splatters all over me, and I realized I probably wasn't looking too good. His jaw tensed before he finally turned away to glance at the trees again, listening for something.

The other two Dwarves were suddenly on edge as well, and I understood why when another Warg came charging in, from the direction that Jean had been attacked. Thorin pulled me behind him then finally let go of my hand, and brought out his heavy Dwarven sword, Deathless, but the beast was slain by Dwalin in about two seconds. The warrior yanked his axe from the dead Warg's neck while I was still staring at Thorin's weapon in confusion. _Where was Orcrist?_

"Quickly," Thorin said, on the move already.

Kili came up beside me and passed something small over to my shaking hands. "I believe this is yours," he said with a gentle pat on my back, urging me forward carefully, like he was afraid I might start freaking out again – which was a high possibility, to be honest.

I glanced down to see the whistle that Bifur had crafted for me. I clenched it tightly for a moment in thanks, before stuffing it into my pants pocket and sprinting after the three Dwarves. The cord would have to be fixed, but I was glad my whistle was otherwise unharmed.

The forest raced past us, a blur of branches and greenery. While my adrenaline was pumping, my thoughts were oddly blank, and it concerned me a bit. I knew an actual breakdown was at hand, but I couldn't allow that just yet. _Wait until we reach Rivendell_ , I told myself. _When we get to Rivendell, you can freak out._ It wouldn't be that long now. Just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Yep. Hop, skip, jump.

My mind was not in the same place as my body, and it was making it difficult to concentrate on the terrain. I tripped up several times, never quite falling, but not exactly helping our speed, either. As we ran further onward for I don't even know how long, I began to spot things through the leaves of the trees in front of us. Figures that, no matter what distance, I would be able to identify.

We made our way down a rocky, moss-covered slope, Kili at my side making sure I didn't just give up and roll the entire way down, and we came to a halt in front of many familiar faces. The entire Company was gathered in this little clearing at the bottom of a hill, a scene I would have recognized had I been in my right mind.

There were noises of both relief and of horror when they spotted me, greetings mingling with questions of what could have possibly happened, but it was almost impossible to register all they were saying. They seemed to realize – probably from my status as a hot mess, looking like a stunt double in a _Carrie_ remake – that a few things had happened since last we parted.

One Dwarf, however, managed to clear my brain for half a second.

"Lass!" I recognized Bofur's voice call out, making me bring my head up to look around.

There was a surge of relief at seeing the hatted-dwarf, walking and talking like he had never been knocked out at all, much less with a brick. He was there suddenly, wrapping me in a hug before I could even blink, despite the fact that I was covered in some dude's blood. Of course, I was rather sore and I tensed up in surprise, but I couldn't stop myself from returning the gesture after a moment. The solidity of another person nearly did me in. Tears tried to well up in my eyes and I bit my lip, ending the hug before I started to cry. I couldn't have a break down just yet.

Bofur took a step back, with Bifur and Bombur – who was sporting my backpack as well as his own bags – having joined us upon seeing my return as well, staring at me in concern. Bofur opened his mouth, I think to ask what in the world happened to me, but I just kind of stared at him, begging him not to. If he asked me, I would be weeping in seconds, there would be no stopping it, and we definitely didn't have time for that sort of drama.

 _Wait for Rivendell, Jenna._

There was one not-so-familiar face, though – well, familiar for _me_ , but not for anyone else except Gandalf.

"Who is this?" Thorin suspiciously asked Balin in a hurry, who had stepped forward to greet the returning members.

They were staring, of course, at the short Wizard speaking with Gandalf some ways away. The newcomer had parked a sled full of giant rabbits nearby, as I knew he would when he came around. I finally caught sight of the wooden contraption and the furry critters, wishing I was in a better mood so I could go pet one. Would they let me? Probably not if they smelled blood everywhere, I was willing to bet. Damn.

Gandalf had peered back upon our rejoining of the Company, doing a minor double-take when he spotted me. I met his eyes momentarily and his brows furrowed, something Radagast said pulling his attention back away, though they eventually both turned and came over to the group. I noticed a sword at Gandalf's hip, realizing it was Glamdring. _So Thorin doesn't have Orcrist, but here is one of the three Elvish swords?_ Bilbo better have Sting, or I was going to have a meltdown.

Balin was holding Thorin's trademark fur-lined coat, passing it off to its rightful owner as he answered, "He calls himself Radagast, The Brown."

"Another of the Istari?" the King asked quickly while he slipped his coat back on.

"Aye," was the short response from Balin, and he cast an anxious glance my way. "Are you not going to tell us what happened, lad? We heard howling."

"We ran into a problem. A big one," Dwalin said, staring at the rabbit sled briefly before turning to his brother.

"Dwalin is right," Thorin agreed tensely, upping his volume so others could hear. "Warg scouts found the Men before we did – which means an Orc pack is not far behind."

This caught the two Wizards' attention. They had meandered over, seemingly through with their conversation, frowns forming on their faces. (Well, on Gandalf's, certainly.) I felt several eyes from the Company dart over to me at the mention of Wargs, and I figured all of the blood probably made more sense to them now.

" _Orc pack?_ " Bilbo echoed in alarm. I noticed then, the little sheath at his side, Elvish handle easily recognizable. _Sting confirmed._ One less worry out of the way.

Gandalf stepped forward, asking the Dwarf King a familiar line, albeit in a different tone, "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one," Thorin answered. Though he was on edge, he was not distressed as I remembered him being while saying the line.

It dawned on me that the two Wargs they killed, the two Wargs that mauled Gavin and Jean, must have been the ones meant to find the Company in this grove. The canines found and attacked the Men first, though... No wonder my companions were calmer than their original counterparts. They hadn't just had a couple of demonic Scooby-Doos jumping down on top of them, like in the movie canon.

"Who did you tell, Thorin?" the Grey Wizard questioned, a little more impatient.

"No one, I swear," Thorin replied. When the other simply tightened his lips and huffed while glancing around in thought, the King asked, exasperated, "What in Durin's name is going on?"

Equally unenthused, Gandalf said, "You are being hunted."

All at once, everyone in the clearing seemed to hold their breath, waiting for orders on what to do.

Dwalin was the first to speak up, with an obvious, "We have to get out of here."

"We can't! The ponies bolted last night, after we freed them from the Trolls," Ori announced, not from atop the hill, but from a regular spot in the grove with the others.

There were sighs and groans, and then there was me: standing there with nothing more than a slight frown at the thought of running again. _Oh yeah, definite breakdown ahead after all this shit._

It was that point when Radagast spoke for the first time since I had arrived.

"I'll draw them off," the Brown Wizard said bravely, not the least bit concerned.

Gandalf was having none of his nonsense though, and argued, "These are Gundabad Wargs – they will outrun you."

" _These_ are _Rhosgobel Rabbits_ ," Radagast declared, pointing a proud thumb over his shoulder at the wooden sled and his team of fuzz balls. "I'd like to see them try."

Gandalf looked as though he wanted to argue, but didn't even get a chance. The other Wizard was already scuttling away towards his ride, the rabbits popping up from their relaxed positions when he approached. He seemed to talk to them for a moment, oddly enough, though they gave no indication of listening. I wondered if he was the Middle Earth equivalent of a crazy cat lady then, just with bunnies instead.

The odd thought passed as Radagast departed swiftly and yet more howls sounded in the distance. The noises were not nearly far enough away from us for my liking.

"Here, Thorin."

I looked over to see Gandalf holding the final sword I had been fretting over, Orcrist. It had already been cleaned and dusted, appearing brand new as it was offered up.

"Where did this come from?" Thorin asked him, obviously not trusting the sudden materialization of a shiny new weapon.

"We found it in the Troll hoard, if you can believe such a thing. Though it is of Elvish make –"

Eh, nope. Wrong. Thorin immediately scowled, taking a step back like the thing tried to bite him.

" – It was forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age," Gandalf continued, pretending like nothing had happened. When the other made no move to grab it, the Wizard said irritably, "You could not wish for a finer blade."

Slowly, with great hesitance, Thorin took the weapon in hand, unsheathing it to inspect momentarily. After a long few seconds, he replaced Deathless to its own holder and with the Elvish blade in one hand, armed the other with his long-handled axe. Orcrist was here now, where it was meant to be. _All swords accounted for._

Gandalf and Thorin began walking and the Company followed, unsure of what the actual plan was. Hell, _I_ wasn't sure of what the actual plan was, and I was the bearer of mystical Tolkien knowledge. Regardless, I knew Rivendell wasn't far off now. That one thought kept me from dissolving into a mess, and I kept reminding myself of it like some kind of mantra. _Wait for Rivendell._

The Company neared the edge of the forest, all of us peering through the trees at a vast expanse of brownish grass and large rocks scattered about. Though the terrain was full of hills and possible hiding spots, it looked so much more open, so much more _intimidating_ now that I knew what a Warg was truly like. Teeth, golden eyes –

 _Wait for Rivendell._

Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur had not left my side since we reunited, and we waited anxiously for any sort of signal or warning to start running. I was shaking despite all my efforts to suppress it. The youngest, most rotund of the Ur family took notice, giving me a small pat on the back with a nod of understanding. My lips tightened together as I stamped down my emotions.

The howling sounded off once more, with twice as many as we'd heard previously and twice the vigor. That was our cue, it seemed – Radagast had been spotted.

"Now!" Gandalf announced.

With that, the whole crew bolted from the safety of the trees. I forced myself to surge forward with the others, whether I wanted to or not. The sun hit my face and the dry grass crunched beneath my boots with every step, and I tried to just concentrate on breathing.

We made it to the first cluster of rocks with relative ease, the sounds of large paws travelling across the ground in a mass still somewhat far away. Of course, all it took was two seconds for that to change. Within moments, Radagast was darting past our line of vision, drawing the Wargs in the opposite direction. Again, they sounded far away, but I knew how fast they really were now.

"Come on," Gandalf said, launching off once more.

Passing hills of rocks far taller than ourselves, we followed. The clamor of Wargs snarling and (now discernible as well) Orcs yelling were behind us, then off to the left, changing positions rapidly. Around me, the Dwarves were glancing about for any sign of the creatures having spotted us.

Good God, my breathing was already absolute shite. At this rate, I'd be lucky if I didn't pass out before we even got near that damn secret entrance.

The group rounded a large craggy hill just in time for Radagast to fly by, several yards in front of us, Wargs hot on his tail. Thorin came to an abrupt halt, causing everyone else to do the same. Gandalf eyeballed the situation, mumbled something, and then shifted our route more to the right. Thorin yelled out for us to move, but we were already on it. Didn't have to tell us twice.

I sprinted along amidst the others, trying not to trip on invisible things – I didn't want to be _that_ person, especially right now. A rock the size of a house, nestled in another mound was our next stop, though we didn't know it until our path was interrupted yet again. Everyone pulled to a halt behind it, except for one.

"Ori, no!" Thorin shouted, grabbing the Scribe and yanking him back before he was spotted. "Get back!"

Then, surprise, we were running again. The Middle Earth cardio regimen from Hades.

 _Wait for Rivendell._

The Company was all jumbled at this point, formation not meaning much when you're running for your life. Bifur had managed to stay at my side and Bombur was behind us somewhere, and Fili had found me as well. We jumped over a small row of in-ground rocks, darting to another possible hiding spot as the sounds of a chase swerved around us.

A lone Warg rider was heard approaching, so everyone flattened themselves against the nearby hill. On one side, I had Bifur, glancing around wildly and holding tight to his spear, and on my other side was Fili. The young prince had a defensive arm spread across my stomach, like I might jump out of hiding if I didn't have a seatbelt. As if I was going to move an inch with this thing growling above us.

Nobody dared to breathe – well, I was still gasping for air, but I was trying to do it quietly – silencing ourselves as much as was possible for a Company of our size. On the opposite side of Fili was Kili, pulling an arrow from his quiver with stealth after a communicative look from Thorin. He nocked it, and that was when I truly did hold my breath.

Kili jumped out in front of us and spun, shooting as soon as the creature was in his sights. Even for a pro like the prince, a kill shot while being so rushed was near impossible, and the Warg snarled and snapped its jaws in pain. The sound was so close to our heads, I cringed involuntarily.

Another arrow was let loose, knocking the beast off balance and sending it toppling off the hill, right beside Balin at the end of our ensemble.

This was my first time seeing an Orc. Honestly, I could have done without it, that day in particular, but what could you do?

 _Dear Lord, just… Wait for Rivendell, Jenna._

It was fugly as hell – beady eyes, big flat nose and almost no upper cranium to speak of, accompanied by sickly looking blue-grey skin. The thing was dressed in furs and leathers, jumping up from its prone position on the ground to charge at us with a roar. Its Warg leapt up as well, growling with wide jaws and dripping fangs. I trembled anew at the sight, Fili shifting slightly to put me behind him, and I peeked around his head to watch in morbid fascination as the fighters hopped to action.

There was nothing to worry about, because Dwalin was already on the job, and Bifur had darted from my side to go help. The Warg fell quickly to Dwalin's axe, though the Orc was slashing about with its crudely-shaped weapon still. When the foe refused to go down between just Bifur and Dwalin, Thorin rushed in and landed a blow in its shoulder with Orcrist. Of course, Bifur jabbed in one more strike, just to be sure.

The whole thing was, obviously, louder than the THX logo before a movie.

Gandalf stepped forward, peering over the hills worriedly as barking and howling and all sorts of horrible noises went off all at once.

"Move!" he shouted, turning back to us. " _Run!_ "

Instantly, we were shoving off, not really needing his warning to know we were in trouble. Fili moved out from in front of me and laid a hand on my back, giving me a much-needed nudge until we returned to full momentum. God, I was tired. Mentally, physically, everything-ly.

"There they are!" Gloín hollered out, pointing, and we changed direction again when we saw the Warg riders crossing the grass field in front of us.

"This way – quickly!" Gandalf called for us.

We followed, running over more knolls, down into lower ground, which in normal circumstances is a bad idea. There were hills dotted with Wargs and Orcs all around us, forming a very bumpy, very dangerous bowl of sorts.

That was when I noticed the massive rock sitting in the center of it all, smaller rocks lined up in front of it.

"There's more coming!" Kili warned, running up to join the scattered circle of Dwarves.

I glanced around as me and Fili jogged along, coming to the circle as well, and noticed this was very true. There were way more Wargs than I thought.

Thorin was gripping Orcrist, taking in the situation, and shouted, "Kili! Shoot them!"

While Kili set to work, beside me was Fili, pulling out one of his twin swords as we came to a halt. His distress was plain to see when he spun around and caught sight of just how screwed they were. "We're surrounded!" he announced, earning from me the official title of _Captain Obvious_.

"Where's Gandalf?!"

"He's abandoned us!"

The Company was at a loss, looking all over for where their Wizard had run off to. Yelps echoed out as Kili took down several more Wargs, but it was not nearly enough, and everyone was sure this was it. I mean, I knew logically that we would get out just fine, but seeing the giant canines closing in was not helping these logical thoughts one bit.

"Jenna, go – go over there, with Bilbo. You'll be safer there," Fili told me as the Wargs crept nearer, gesturing with his free hand towards our Hobbit friend in the center, before gripping his blade with both hands again.

It was clear he was not entirely convinced by his own words, but I did as he suggested. I took a few wary steps away from him, feeling oddly exposed without at least one person in my immediate vicinity. The feeling was less prominent once I was beside Bilbo, the small man casting alarmed glances in every direction as we backed up towards the rock. Was it too early to jump into the cave? Could I just bypass the additional terror of waiting?

"Hold your ground!" Thorin commanded in his battle stance. Fierce, ready to fight to the death, he certainly made a formidable image.

Of course, a fight to the death wasn't necessary just yet.

"This way, you fools!"

Everyone spun to see Gandalf peeking out from behind the small rocks, waving his staff at us like an old man does at kids on his lawn.

"Come on, move!" came Thorin's furthering of the orders. We didn't need any more prompting than that, though, all of us gravitating towards the hidden tunnel that Gandalf had disappeared down into.

The Dwarf King leapt up on the rocks to make sure all his Company members got in safe, yelling, "Quickly, all of you! Go! Go!"

Bofur was the first to just launch himself in there, hopping down without hesitation. Bilbo was next, and I approached the rocks, forcing myself not think on it too much before I jumped over them – honestly, the slope was the _last_ thing that should have concerned me.

I slid rapidly, my bum and my back hitting several uncomfortable bumps. Suddenly I was sideways though, rolling the rest of the way, and tons of dirt kicked up when I landed roughly on my stomach at the bottom. I coughed on the cloud as Bofur quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me up. Stumbling, I moved out of everyone else's way with the Miner's help, as the rest of the Dwarves piled in, sliding down and coming to a stop.

Close by, I could hear Gandalf counting. I watched as each Company member joined us at the bottom, either rolling, careening, or just gliding down like a pro, the number of people growing. I had made sure to position myself far, far off to the side, away from any flailing dwarrow limbs. What kind of shit luck would I have to get kicked in the face by accident, on top of everything else?

We were only lacking two when, back up top, Thorin shouted Kili's name, and the paranoia struck me again for one horrible second. I thought maybe something had gone wrong, but no sooner had this thought crossed my mind than both the prince and his uncle slid down to join us.

Not a minute too late, it seemed.

The majority of the group was crouched at the bottom of the slope, looking upward at the entrance as a horn sounded above. I was just behind them, listening to the rapid hoof beats mixing with the panicked screeches of Orcs, and even though I knew to expect it, I still jumped out of my skin when a body toppled down into our cave.

Everyone leapt backwards automatically with a few gasps. As Gandalf aimed his staff at the Orc, and several others brandished their weapons again, they realized it was (thankfully) already dead. The noises on the surface began to die down, hooves and paws alike retreating from the area.

Thorin stepped over to the unmoving Orc, bending to yank an arrow out of its throat. "Elves," he spat as he investigated the object, subsequently dropping it like it held the plague.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin called from a little ways down the tunnel. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" answered Bofur like it was the stupidest question in Middle Earth.

The Company was all too glad to have an alternate route, instead of having to go back out and face either Elves or leftover Wargs, neither one sounding too promising. Which, they would have to face Elves anyway, but they didn't really know that. Regardless of what might possibly await, they began moving on down the mysterious path, one by one, as I tried to convince my feet to move.

"I think that would be wise," Gandalf said quietly while he followed.

Bilbo was the only one left, hesitating when he didn't see me make any motion to do the same. He took a step towards the tunnel, then stepped backwards while staring at me, and made another false step forwards. Eventually he gave up trying to convince himself that I was alright and turned straight towards me.

"Miss – oh, sorry, I keep doing that, don't I? …Erm, Jenna?"

 _Wait for Rivendell._

 _Wait for…_

Fuck.

It wasn't Rivendell, but it was close enough.

"Oh! Are you – are you alright? Jenna?" I heard Bilbo ask, along the sound of quiet feet padding over quickly.

I was too busy collapsing onto my knees to pay him any attention. All at once, it hit me, and I couldn't stop it. Being kidnapped, nearly molested, having a man be _mauled to death_ right on top of me – fucking hell, I was still covered in his blood! It was dried on my neck and in my hair, it was on my clothes…

Sobbing. I was just full on sobbing by then, shudders tearing through me as I sat there on the cold stone floor, hands covering my face. I didn't want them to see me break down like this, but it was a little late for that, I supposed. Bilbo was beside me, hesitant. I could tell he wasn't a hundred percent sure what to do, either.

"What are you two dallying about for? We've got to get…" Bofur's voice trailed off as he rounded the corner, coming back to the cave. "Jenna? What's happened?"

"I – I don't know, she just… started crying all of the sudden," Bilbo said in equal parts confusion and worry.

Bofur came over with a sad sigh and knelt down as well, setting a kind hand on my back, telling me everything was going to be alright. He told me there was nothing to worry about, that the Wargs and the Orcs and the Men were gone. He told me we could rest up, get some food. Always with the food.

For once, the kind-hearted Dwarf was wrong though.

There would be more Wargs. There would be more Orcs. There would be more blood, more death. He was wrong.

 _Yavanna_ was wrong.

She had made the wrong choice.

She picked the wrong person.

Another sob shook me, and I knew.

 _I can't do this._

* * *

 ** _Oh dear. :)_**

 ** _I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please, please, please let me know what you thought! Every bit of feedback I get is absolutely treasured. What did you like the most? What did you like the least? All the usual questions! I swear I don't bite. Not like a Warg, anyway._**

 ** _Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you all for your support._**

 ** _Until next time~! ;)_**


	18. In Which Thorin Sees

_**You guys are seriously amazing, do you know that? We broke 300 reviews! Like... I'm still in shock, honestly. I can't thank you all enough for your feedback and your support. Ima cry. ilu :')**_

 _ **So this chapter kicked my ass thoroughly. I tried not to overdo the movie scenes, but it was kind of fun to see what Thorin might've been thinking in some of them. Eh, I'll just let you guys decide.**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

Thorin supposed this could have been avoided several different ways. One of which may have been listening to the Wizard before they made camp, though he was more inclined to believe the Troll situation was set in motion by a Burglar who could not – in fact – burgle ponies to freedom.

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," Gandalf had suggested as they investigated the burnt ruins.

Thorin was instantly annoyed, and said, "I have told you already: I will _not_ go near that place."

Somehow thinking this would persuade him, Gandalf continued with, "Why not? The Elves could help us – we could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not _need_ their advice," Thorin retorted. Why would he even put forth such an idea, knowing full well what kind of history they had with those unreliable fae?

"We have a map that we cannot read," the other said. "Lord Elrond could help us."

 _That_ truly did rub Thorin the wrong way.

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor; what _help_ came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls; the Elves looked on and did _nothing_. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather… Who betrayed my father…" Thorin fumed, knowing his mind was more than made up. "Miss Hollander will provide information on the map soon enough, so there is no need for the likes of _Elves_ to be involved. Her Iglishmêk improves every day. It will not be long."

"You are neither your father nor grandfather, and while I have no doubt she is improving, Miss Hollander cannot provide extra supplies or proper shelter for recuperation before we cross the Misty Mountains," Gandalf insisted. "Thorin… I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," the King snapped.

Gandalf raised his eyes away, ruffled by that point. He huffed, "Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," and made his way out of the burnt farmhouse. Eventually – after a brief questioning from a panicked Halfling – he was out of sight. Good riddance.

Well, good riddance until much, much later, when Thorin would actually be glad to see the Grey Wizard. Until then, he just had to survive with the rest of his comrades, stuck in a humiliating situation.

Thorin had suffered quite a few indignities in his life, but this? This was a whole new level of disgrace. He would have even preferred more hot stew spilled on him instead of being trussed up in a burlap sack, having to watch half the Company be roasted on a spit by the Trolls who outwitted them.

That was the real kicker, though: they had been outwitted by Trolls. If it weren't for Gandalf's so-called _burglar_ , then they could have already been out of there, ponies and all. Bringing that blasted Halfling had been a mistake, for all he knew how to do was fret, complain, and get caught by giant lumbering idiots.

Thorin was surprised Bofur and Miss Hollander had not sought them out yet, for as long as they'd been gone from camp. Since there was no telling where Gandalf disappeared to or when he'd be back, those two appeared to be their last hope. Not the most remarkable of odds, but Bofur had his fare share of wits, and Miss Hollander seemed to be a few notches above most of her kind in aptitude, so perhaps all was not lost. Maybe they were just busy formulating a plan of some sort.

"Wait! You are making… a _terrible_ mistake!" the Hobbit suddenly proclaimed. He wriggled around until he was able to stand inside the cloth bag, hopping over to speak with their captors.

"You can't reason with 'em! They're halfwits!" Dori blurted from his position, tied up on the spit, making Thorin question their own intelligence if that was the case.

There was a pause as a few more Dwarves grumbled and wiggled, but Master Baggins continued. "I meant with the, uh… with the – with the seasoning," he said, nearly falling over as he hopped forward.

"What about the seasoning…?" one of the Trolls asked, leaning down to listen.

"Well, have you smelt them?" Master Baggins questioned. "You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

 _What in Mahal's name does he think he's doing?_ Was he _trying_ to get them eaten? There were more protests from the Company, as expected. It wasn't exactly normal to go around, giving monsters advice on how best to cook your comrades, now was it?

"What do you know about cooking Dwarf?" demanded another Troll as it rotated the spit.

"Shut up," said the other, who had been speaking previously. "Let the, uh… flurgurburburhobbit talk."

The _what?_

"Ah, the secret to cooking Dwarf is, um – is uh…"

"Yes? Come on," the Troll urged. "Tell us the secret."

"Ye-yes, I'm telling you – the secret… The secret is…" Master Baggins trailed off, finally divulging, "To… skin them first!"

This was the absolute last time Thorin took suggestions from a Wizard concerning recruitments! While Gandalf may have been right about making camp at the burnt farmhouse (something the King was loathe to admit), he had terrible sense of what made a good Company member.

Since the Halfling was obviously of no help – quite the _opposite_ at this moment – Thorin began wiggling and pushing around like others, desperate to find a weakness in the bags holding them. He wasn't sure what he thought it would accomplish since it hadn't worked so far, but it was better than laying here, waiting for death via demented Hobbit recipe.

One of the other Trolls began arguing, saying there was no sense in skinning them. They'd apparently eaten plenty of Dwarves with their skins on, a thought that left Thorin feeling nauseous, and so they picked out Bombur to prove a point. The usually quiet Ur brother was hefted up as he wriggled and whimpered, expecting to be devoured. Thorin watched in horror with the others, until…

"N-not – not that one! He – he's infected!" Master Baggins interrupted quickly.

"You what?" asked a Troll.

"Yeah, he's got worms in his… tubes," the Hobbit said with an odd pause, causing Bombur to be released and land right on top of Kili and Oín, who groaned under the weight. "In – in fact they all have. They're… _infested_ with parasites. It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't," he continued.

What was he playing at? One second, he was trying to get them skinned and seasoned, and the next he was telling the Trolls not to eat them at all. That made no sense. Unless…

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" Oín asked.

Kili scowled in betrayal, nodding to the medic then turning back to Bilbo to yell, "We don't have _parasites! You_ have parasites!"

It was then that Thorin realized what had been happening the entire time, and they had just mistook it for treachery. The Dwarves beside him in the pile were flailing about, hurling insults to the one they thought was going to get them killed, and Thorin quickly jerked his leg, kicking the others to get them to understand as well.

There was a long, awkward pause as they went silent, staring at their King. Then the group was abruptly in agreeance with the Hobbit.

"…I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Oín finally said, catching on.

Kili followed that up with an overly dramatic, "Mine are the biggest parasites! I've got _huge_ parasites!"

Soon, every Dwarf was describing their parasites. The Trolls seemed less enthusiastic about eating them after that, and there was hesitation as they turned the spit.

One of the gigantic creatures began circling the Hobbit with suspicion, asking, "What would you have us do then? Let 'em all go?"

"Well…" Master Baggins tried to initiate with a casual air.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" the Troll interrupted, jabbing a massive finger against their burglar's chest, then walking back to help with cooking. "This little ferret – he's taking us for fools!"

The Halfling seemed quite offended. "Ferret?"

"Fools?" another Troll asked.

"THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!" a booming voice declared.

Everyone in the clearing looked up to see none other than Gandalf the Grey, standing on top of a colossal boulder, staff in hand. His silhouette seemed much more imposing with the way he had positioned himself against the faint sunrise, probably on purpose to achieve such an effect.

In quick succession, the Trolls spoke with each other while staring at the newcomer.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Suddenly, Gandalf grabbed his staff with both hands, slamming the end into the boulder he stood on. A loud _'crack'_ sounded as the boulder split, a rumble following as the broken half fell to the ground. Blinding sunlight immediately poured through the newly made gap.

The Trolls threw up their arms to protect their faces against the light, but it was no use. They groaned and hissed and writhed as their skin began crackling, hardening into stone, and within mere moments, all was still. The Trolls were simply statues. No longer a threat, no longer a danger to the Company or the quest. No longer gearing up to eat anyone. The others cheered in relief. It seemed perfect.

Gandalf picked his way down from the boulder nonchalantly, like he hadn't just saved all of their lives. The Wizard approached the pile of Dwarves on the ground, untying the bags that held them, so they could go help the others down from the spit. Once Thorin slipped out of his own burlap sack, he assisted in putting out the fire beneath their companions before cutting the ropes, causing the other half of the Company to drop from the wooden structure and roll away, one by one. Their moaning and groaning was a welcome sound compared to what could have happened.

The group that had been tied to the spit began redressing, and Thorin looked for his coat briefly before remembering it was back at camp, where he left it after the stew incident. That thought also reminded him of the two absent Company members as well.

There was an odd feeling nagging at Thorin, as he thought about how much time had passed. Even if the idea had not crossed Miss Hollander's mind (which he doubted, considering her own blatant paranoia), then surely Bofur would have come searching before this point? The Miner's brother and cousin were with them, after all, so it would be hard to imagine him not being the slightest bit concerned.

Thorin turned, looking for anyone who was dressed and ready. "Dori, Bifur, Bombur," he called, knowing the latter two would be eager to reunite with their middle of kin. The three addressed glanced up, as he continued, "Head back to camp, retrieve Bofur and Miss Hollander, as well as the map and our supplies."

They nodded, Bifur giving a short grunt and Dori an, "Aye, will do," before they darted off.

Satisfied, Thorin located Gandalf, who bonked one of the Troll statues on the forehead with his staff in a tiny declaration of victory. The gesture was purely for himself, of course, but there was no trouble in that.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin questioned, walking towards the Wizard.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied casually.

Thorin then felt the need to ask, after such a vague statement, "What brought you back?"

Slightly smug, Gandalf said with a wry smile, "Looking behind." Thorin gave a small nod to that clever retort, and the Wizard resumed, saying, "Nasty business. Still – you're all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin responded, a little irritated. Had it not been for the Halfling getting caught, they wouldn't have had to worry about staying in one piece in the first place.

Meeting his gaze with a less amused and more knowing expression, Gandalf stilled. "He had the nous to play for time… None of the rest of you thought of that," he said with a critical tone.

Thorin was – once again – left with nothing to say. He knew the other was right. While the idea left a bad taste in the King's mouth, perhaps Master Baggins was not as useless as he first thought.

Still a pain in the rear though.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," Gandalf said absently as he stared at the Trolls.

"Since when do Mountain Trolls venture this far South?" asked Thorin, unsure of what would possibly cause such creatures to travel so.

It was then that Gandalf became quieter, his response not reassuring in the least. "Oh, not for an Age… Not since a darker power ruled these lands…" he said lowly, causing an unnerving air to surface as they shared a look. When they finally broke eye contact, Gandalf glanced up in contemplation, staring around at the new morning. "They could not have moved in daylight."

Thorin glanced around as well, realizing, "There must be a cave nearby."

Gandalf nodded in agreement. "Yes, I would say so."

The others had finished righting themselves long ago, now properly dressed and ready to head out, so Thorin made his way over and informed them of what they would be looking for. He told them there was no telling what a Troll hoard might possess and, of course, most of them were keen on the idea of investigating.

"This way," Thorin announced, after having peered around the clearing. The trees in this particular direction seemed more disturbed than the other routes, and they began their trek forward, until a familiar voice sounded.

"Thorin! Wait!"

They turned to see Dori jogging through the forest towards them. The panic in his voice was worrisome enough, but then they saw the Ur family close behind him. Bifur and Bombur were carefully keeping pace on either side of Bofur, who was trying to run as well, but stumbled several times along the way. His lack of balance was reminiscent of one who was either highly intoxicated, or one who had been forced from a very deep slumber.

All of that wasn't what caught Thorin's attention, though. Bofur had obviously been in a fight – his bottom lip had been split, there was a bruise formed on his cheek from a punch he must have taken a while ago, and his clothing was disheveled and covered in soot. The Company had been captured by Trolls and _they_ didn't even look this bad.

Something had gone horribly wrong. The entire troupe knew it, and there was only one person missing.

"They've got her! Those bastards from Bree – they took her!" Bofur exclaimed as he tripped to a stop in front of them, catching his breath.

Thorin felt his stomach drop.

"What? What do you mean?" Kili asked in dismay, stepping forward. There were several, similar comments of disbelief and confusion (" _Who_ from Bree?" "When?" "How?"), but they were all went silent when their King spoke up.

"Bofur, tell us what happened," Thorin demanded. He knew their concern would override reason if he did not intervene, though the pulse in his own ears was making itself known.

"We were about to come lookin' for you when they jumped us," Bofur explained, fighting to control his alarm, glancing about the clearing for the first time and doing a double-take at the Troll statues before continuing. "They – They said they were after some sort of bounty on ya, Thorin. Don't have the slightest what they meant, but we fought 'em as best we could. Then those _rats_ – they put a knife to her throat and I couldn't do anything, you see, and they took her! Knocked me for a loop and then left, and next thing I know, Bombur here is shakin' me awake and it's broad daylight!"

"Bounty? There's not a _bounty_ on Thorin," Fili said in bewilderment, stepping up beside his brother.

Thorin did not look behind him to face his nephews, and somehow he knew Gandalf was staring him down with a judgmental gaze. There were very few who Thorin had informed of the bounty, so when that statement was met with silence, the two princes were shocked.

"Uncle…?" came Kili's stunned murmur.

Fili was in a similar state of distress, asking, "So there _is_ a bounty on you?"

"We will speak of this later, Fili – " Thorin said, finally turning to meet the gaze of the eldest. There was a look of betrayal in those blue eyes, and he wished there was more time to explain, but it had to wait. Knowing they would need range in case the situation went poorly, he caught eyes with the youngest, adding, "Kili – come with me. Your aim is sharp, but I need you to be focused."

For once, Kili did not argue the point, his fast friendship with Miss Hollander the only thing stopping him. Time was of the essence. Though he was sorely disappointed to have been left out of such information, he pulled out his bow with a curt nod.

"Dwalin," Thorin said, and the addressed didn't need any more than that before he stepped up as well, ready to set off. They had both long since retrieved their weapons from the pile, Thorin wielding his Dwarven sword, Deathless, and Dwalin his trusty axes, Grasper and Keeper.

Too many Dwarves and they would be heard approaching easily, another hostage situation inevitable in that case, but if – _when_ – they managed to find their fifteenth member, the element of surprise was their best advantage to getting her out safe. There was also the remainder of the Company to think about. He did not wish to separate them too sparsely and leave them entirely unprotected after how this day was going so far.

Additionally, even though it was a slim chance, there was the possibility Miss Hollander had escaped the Men. She had done it once before, after all. Moreover, in the panic over their missing friend, the Ur family had not gathered any of their gear, so Thorin turned to them and directed, "I need you to head back to camp and pack our supplies as originally intended –" Bofur opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as the King continued. " – If Miss Hollander has managed to get away and return, someone should be there waiting. Ori, Dori, go with them. And whatever you do, do _not_ forget the map."

Ori nodded rapidly, making a few steps in that direction, hesitating when his brother and the Ur family did not follow. Why were they not moving?

"The rest of you, come with me. We are going to investigate the Troll hoard," Gandalf suddenly spoke up. Thorin did not like the abrupt intrusion into his authority, but that was likely the best course of action. The Wizard's half of the group, including a very troubled looking Fili, headed away at that statement.

The small cluster that remained seemed tense in a different way, somehow.

Bofur hesitantly began, "Er… about the map –"

He was cut off by a shrill, sharp sound ringing out, somewhere in the forest. They recognized it immediately.

 _A whistle._

"The map is drying on the crate," Thorin answered quickly, sure that the other simply didn't remember where it had been left.

Thorin exchanged glances with Dwalin and Kili, and they all darted towards the noise right away. Though the sound was hard to pinpoint, it helped them get an idea of her location as it continued trilling through the forest with an intensity that only meant desperation. They passed thickets and bounded over gnarled tree roots, searching for any sign of the noise's source or indication that someone had come this way.

Abruptly, the whistling cut off. Not tapering from shortness of breath, but as though it had been interrupted.

As they ran, Thorin caught a look at Kili's face. The young prince was visibly troubled by the sudden silence, brows furrowing together in distress and the grip on his bow tightening as he sped up. The King's nephews had truly come to care for Miss Hollander in the past month.

In fact, most of the Company had, in some shape or form.

The Ur family, Fili and Kili, Master Baggins (though Thorin did not honestly count him as part of their group just yet, he _had_ signed a contract). More recently, the Ri family, as her interactions with Ori gained the approval of his elder brothers. Oín, ever the caretaker, was always keeping an eye on her, and Balin too after they began spending time together for Iglishmêk lessons. She had even managed to make _Dwalin_ laugh outright once – even if that was just because she'd lost her pants on a shrub.

Thorin, though, was still not sure where Miss Hollander stood with him, but that did not mean she deserved this; being kidnapped by two Men who only knew greed for a bounty. A bounty on himself, no less.

Not far off their current course, the shriek of a male echoed through the trees, startling them a great deal. It only lasted for a split second, but it allowed the Dwarves to adjust their direction hurriedly, a second scream following, even closer than the last. However, it was certainly not the scream of someone attacked by anything human, and it sent a feeling of dread through Thorin.

When the screams began slowly dying out, they could hear another sound buried beneath. It was a low sporadic noise, almost a vibration, and the three rounded a cluster of trees just in time for a gruesome scene to line up in their sights. As the shrieking stopped altogether, they realized the low noise had been a growl.

Several yards away, too far for them to reach in any amount of time, was a Warg. Standing over the lanky, mauled corpse of a Man, the beast was snarling down with red painted jaws at something beneath the dead body.

No, not some _thing_ – some _one._

Lying there, covered in blood, was none other than Miss Hollander. On her back under the familiar Man with her arms bound behind her, the girl was unmoving, and for one disheartening second, Thorin thought they were too late.

This did not stop Kili from nocking an arrow with a swiftness that would put any archer to shame, firing as soon as he saw the creature. His aim was true, landing his shot squarely in the head of the Warg, and they watched it crumble to the ground beside the girl.

Immediately, Kili was darting forward, calling out frantically for any response, "Jenna!"

Thorin followed with Dwalin next to him and as they neared the girl, they were finally close enough to see the faint shudders wracking her frame, realizing with relief that she was alive. Trembling, gasping for breath, staring straight forward, she had no reaction to their presence, but she was still very much alive. Kili helped Dwalin shove the corpse off of her as Thorin pulled her away from the small pile of death, having to physically sit her shaking form upright himself to get to the ropes.

Kili handed over one of his small daggers, asking, "Is she alright? What… What's wrong with her? Is she hurt?"

As Thorin kneeled down beside her and cut the ropes, he took a quick look at the bloody patches on her, not seeing any sign of an open wound. He shook his head at them briefly before turning back.

Dwalin responded for him, with a glance at all the blood, "No, don't look like any of that's hers. She's just in shock, lad."

"Miss Hollander?" Thorin attempted, as the girl's arms were freed and she winced, still not meeting any of their eyes. She was too pale, making the blood splattered across her skin look all the more obvious, and her breathing had not slowed. She was still in a panic.

Her soft hands found his, grabbing onto him for dear life as he put his other hand beneath her elbow to balance her. Blinking rapidly, she was trying to focus as best she could, he knew, trying to regain control of herself, but they did not have time. Where there was one Warg, there was certain to be another, and that would only be followed by worse things still. Thorin did not want to think on _why_ there was a Warg here in the first place.

"Miss Hollander," he said again, a little more firm this go. Her breathing was not quite so harsh, slowly returning to a regular rhythm. The way her wide green eyes refused to focus was a problem though. He scowled when he noticed the leftover tears lingering there and the streaks down her face from a previous bout of crying.

There was a howl in the distance, eerie and foreboding.

" _Jenna_ ," Thorin finally tried lowly, the name unfamiliar on his tongue.

However, that was what did it. The young woman's brows twitched as though she was confused about the usage of her first name which, to be fair, he'd never had cause to use before now. Her stare became a little less fuzzy as she recognized there to be someone in front of her. It took her a long moment, gaze travelling upward from his chest at a snail's pace, before at last she met his eyes.

Another howl tore through the air.

"We must go, _now_. Are you able to stand?" Thorin asked. Under any other circumstance he would simply ask if she was alright, but that was most certainly a loaded question at this point.

Jenna's… _Miss Hollander's_ mouth was open just slightly as she gave the smallest nod, like she was not actually certain. Her willingness to try all the same was reassuring.

Kili spotted something on the ground and quietly stepped over, plucking the item from the grass. Thorin glanced over and saw it was the whistle engraved with _Birâthûna_ , the leather cord having been snapped. Meeting his nephew's gaze, they realized just how lucky – how _exceedingly_ lucky – she was to have blown the whistle while they were free to help her.

Shifting uneasily with the sounds of activity in the forest, Dwalin said, in reference to the corpse a few feet away, "We'd best get a move on if we don't want to wind up like _him_."

Thorin couldn't have agreed more, standing and helping Miss Hollander do so as well. He kept a solid grip on her hand, readjusting his other hand to her upper arm once they were on their feet. She wobbled a bit and clenched her teeth, inhaling though them sharply when he did so. He understood that was her injured arm and immediately removed his hand, wondering briefly why it would be sore again, and then realizing that was an idiotic question.

Finally taking a good look at her, Thorin knew these _Men_ had not been gentle. Of course her wound had opened again, the way they'd restrained her, and she had taken quite a few hits the same way that Bofur had. She was not made as sturdy as a Dwarf, however, so such blows left much more telling marks on her round cheeks. The sight caused a flicker of anger to spring up. Women were _never_ to be treated in such a manner, but the race of Men always found a way to sicken him.

This loathing had to be put aside, though, as a rustling in the bushes caught his attention. Miss Hollander's hand still in his, he pulled her behind him before finally letting go to draw his sword. Another Warg burst through into the clearing, snapping and snarling, but before it had a chance to do any damage, Dwalin had an axe buried in its throat.

"Quickly," Thorin said as he began to sprint, trusting that Miss Hollander was steady enough now to move on her own.

He heard Kili return the whistle to the girl before they followed. Making their way back to the Company was much less of a hassle, but this did not mean they were at ease. They could not be, after seeing those beasts, and Thorin knew it was only a matter of time before Orcs discovered their location. Why _now_ , though? Why would an Orc Pack be so close, even bothering to send out scouts beforehand? It was a tactical move, not one born of a simple urge to raid the camp of some travelers. Did this, too, have to do with the bounty?

As Thorin, Kili, Dwalin, and Miss Hollander rejoined with their companions, there were mixed reactions. Thorin did not have time to spare with watching the reunion between the concerned Ur family and their _Birâthûna_ , however, instead heading straight for Balin.

He spotted a strange man speaking with Gandalf, and needed to make sure there was no threat before informing them of the other, more pressing matters. As Thorin's coat was returned and he questioned the newcomer's presence, Balin told them his name was Radagast The Brown, and there was a flicker of recognition. Gandalf had mentioned him two or three days prior, had he not? Either way, Radagast did not seem to be a threat, so Thorin knew they must move on.

They hastily informed the Company of the danger that approached, receiving a range of responses that varied from gasps, groans, and one panicked, "Orc pack?!" from the Halfling. Of course _he_ would be the first one sent into fits. Even Miss Hollander was not reacting in such a… Well. Another glance at the girl revealed not much of an expression at all, in fact, which was odd for her normally readable face. Thorin knew her stoicism would not last long, having seen this reaction from others in the face of violence, but he hoped she would keep it together until they found safety.

Of course, that was when Gandalf delivered the lovely news: That they were being hunted.

Whether he wanted to hear it or not, this simply supported Thorin's earlier thoughts on the matter. He knew the attack was not random, he knew the Wargs were searching with purpose, and he knew the Company was in grave danger.

None of them were thrilled with the idea of Wargs and Orcs waiting for them in the woods somewhere, especially considering they were now on foot, with no ponies. Thankfully – by some magnificent stroke of luck – the newest Wizard volunteered as a diversion, using a rabbit-drawn sled, no less. Either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, though they would quickly learn which.

Before they set off, Gandalf approached Thorin and offered up a rather impressive blade. The King was obviously wary, because one did not simply give away a sword of this quality, and besides that, how did it come to be in a Troll hoard? When he was informed of its Elvish origins, Thorin was even less interested in wielding the thing, no matter what _Age_ it was forged in.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf had insisted.

Thorin spotted another sword at the Wizard's own hip, obviously made in Gondolin and found in the hoard as well, since there had been no sign of the weapon previously. He also had not missed the sight of a new blade on Master Baggins, and if Gandalf was willing to arm not only himself, but his precious Hobbit with one too, then maybe it would be worth a go. The way things were headed, a chance to test the smoothly curved blade would come all too soon.

Thorin readied himself as the Company stopped at the edge of the forest, awaiting the signal, and caught sight of Balin nearby. A thought sprang to mind.

"The map was retrieved?" Thorin asked in a hushed tone.

Balin met his eyes for a moment, glancing away with lips in a grim line. "Well… Yes and no," he slowly answered with unusual hesitance.

Thorin stared at him, bewildered by such a vague, foreboding response, and immediately began to ask, "What do you _mean_ –"

Howling interrupted. Too many howls to be anything other than that Wizard setting them off.

Then they were running. For better or worse, they left the cover of the forest and delved into the wide open air, Thorin's senses going on high alert. His Company was at the mercy of the terrain and a Wizard with questionable sanity.

Despite this, they managed to maneuver over the hills and past the ever-changing position of the Orc pack. They used the topography to their advantage, Thorin keeping an eye on his party to ensure nobody lost their footing or alerted the enemies on accident. Ori came very close, however, almost darting out into sight of the creatures, but was wrenched back just in time. It made Thorin very glad to have the quick reflexes he had trained so hard for.

The group had a close encounter when an Orc broke off from the pack, and though Kili was able to bring the Warg crashing down beside them before its rider sounded any alarms, the tussle that followed created more noise than they would have liked. Thorin tested his new sword by silencing the Orc, and was reluctantly impressed by how well the blade handled. It was lighter, cutting through the air faster than anything he was used to wielding, and though he held no love for Elves, he suddenly decided he could not say the same for their weapons.

Thorin did not dwell on this for too long, seeing as they were immediately on the move again. Their fight had garnered the attention of every Orc and Warg in the area, and Gandalf was leading them Aulë knew where, though Thorin had a sneaking suspicion, given their general location. He did not know how, for certain, since there was no sign of an entrance or a trail, but he had an idea where they were headed.

Or, so he thought.

Gandalf led them into the middle of the fray and then disappeared, leaving them encircled by the approaching Warg riders. Dwalin yelled out that the Wizard had abandoned them, and though Thorin grew enraged at the thought, he had to agree. _Never trust a Wizard_.

This was it. They had survived almost being eaten by Trolls, and now they had to survive the threat of being eaten by Wargs.

Thorin caught sight of Fili sending Jenna to the center for safety, or as much safety they would be able to provide, considering the situation. He didn't remember to mentally correct to _Miss Hollander_ at that moment. There were more pressing issues to worry about.

Gandalf chose then, immediately after Thorin had called for them to hold their ground, to appear between a formation of rocks in front of one massive boulder, yelling, "This way, you fools!"

The Company had all the motivation they needed to follow that order. After a tense few moments, waiting for each member of the group to slide down into the hidden cave, it was only Thorin and Kili left. The King did not follow until his nephew drew near enough and they leapt in together, listening at the bottom of the slope as horns sounded off with hoofbeats. The noises were not from their pursuers, though. When the body of a newly slain Orc tumbled down and nearly landed on top of them, Thorin plucked an arrow from the throat of the creature, confirming his suspicions as to their location. _Elf_ territory.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!"

Thorin did not like the way Gandalf mumbled, "I think that would be wise," but chose to ignore it for the time being, heading the direction the others had gone.

The cave turned into a tunnel, and then shifted into more of a gap between two walls of stone as the earth above them disappeared, allowing faint sunlight to filter down. The fissure widened out enough for Thorin to pull Balin aside before they came to the end, something quite dire to their quest still nagging at his mind. Other Company members passed by with curious glances, but kept going all the same.

"What did you mean, 'yes and no'?" Thorin questioned, not even needing to restate what he was referring to.

There was that hesitance again when their eyes met. Highly unusual for the Dwarf, given that they had known each other for as long as Thorin could remember, so of course he braced for the horrendous news.

"Fate has a funny way of showing its hand, I think," said Balin with a nod, garnering no reaction from the other, and so sighed. He glanced over, in the direction the rest of the Company had gone. "You'll be wanting to ask Bofur about the map, lad. Though… I don't believe I saw him pass by just yet," he continued, turning to look back down the way they had come from.

Voices echoed slightly from within the cave, and Thorin recognized the sound of Bofur and Master Baggins. The former's tone shifted suddenly, turning soft, and they were unable to distinguish any words from the way it reverberated in the fissure.

From the opposite direction came the last thing Thorin wanted to hear.

"The Valley of Imladris. In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

He shared a look of intense loathing with Balin, who simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath, choosing not to acknowledge that little announcement. Thorin passed off his battle ax to Balin before turning away, heading back to the cave instead of going to deal with the Wizard's irritating love of Elves. That would be a problem for a later time, he decided, prioritizing the map and the quest itself.

As Thorin made his way through the tunnel again, more soft noises reached him. A rapid snuffling, like shaky, shallow breaths of distress. He realized as he rounded the corner that he had not seen Jenna pass by either, and was greeted by the sight of Bofur and Master Baggins crouched down on either side of her, the Miner making statements of comfort as he patted her back.

The girl herself, though… Somehow she had managed to keep her head just long enough, as he had hoped, but only just. Now that they were safe, she had fallen apart. On her knees, sobbing into her hands as she curled over into a ball, Jenna was shaking like a leaf. It was no wonder, really. She had no experience with the true brutality of the world, as every one of them knew when first they laid eyes upon her. No matter how many times he saw it, the dismantling of one's rosy outlook on the security of life was a depressing sight.

Thorin reminded himself why he came back in the first place, purposefully making his last few steps shuffle against the ground a little more as he stopped a few feet away from the trio. Bofur and the Halfling glanced up at the sound.

"Bofur," Thorin said, a little softer than he meant to. "I must speak with you."

The hatted-Dwarf looked back to their female companion, who had made no motion upon Thorin's arrival, before patting her one more time and standing. Master Baggins watched the proceedings curiously from his position on the ground, awkwardly and hesitantly taking over the job of rubbing their friend's back.

"Aye? What was it that ye needed?" Bofur asked in a hushed tone, though the other two could still obviously hear him. Perhaps it wasn't for secrecy, though, and more for respect of the girl's current sensitivity.

"It concerns the map," Thorin said. "Balin told me you were the one I should ask."

The usually joyful dwarrow was very serious, holding the same expression that Balin had. He opened his mouth once, then closed it, then finally opened it again. "Ye won't like it," he cautioned.

Thorin stared him down for a long minute, not influenced by the statement.

With pursed lips and a glance away, Bofur sighed through his nose, reaching into his coat to pull out a small fragment of paper.

Thorin's eyes widened as he took the offered sheet, realizing just what it was. Or rather, what it _used_ to be.

All that remained of the map was a triangular section from the top left. Half of the Lonely Mountain, the pointing hand, and part of the column of runes beneath had made it, though the charring that curved around the edges cut the words short. There was a slight orange tint to the whole thing, and it was obvious the only reason this part survived was because it had been the most saturated with stew.

Thorin finally dragged his eyes away from the remaining segment to meet Bofur's gaze.

"I don't know how it happened," said Bofur dismally. "It must've done after they knocked me out. I tried to tell ye before you left to go find her, but…"

But Thorin, Kili, and Dwalin had to rescue the girl before it had been too late – the girl sent from another world by the Valar themselves, the girl who was now the only full remaining copy of Thror's map. The girl who, at this time, quite literally held their quest on her shoulder.

It all struck Thorin at once as he looked over to the young woman, her sobs having subsided enough for her to focus on them. Her now puffy, red eyes were wide when she spotted the map segment, staring at it in shock much as he had done. Their only hope of entering the Lonely Mountain had been a hair's breadth away from a Warg's jaws not long ago, and that was a truly terrifying realization.

Once it sunk in, Thorin wound up grinding his teeth and took a few steps past Bofur, further into the cave, before turning to pause in front of Jenna and the Halfling. He was not sure how to feel about this whole mess.

On one hand, he was angry. No – he was _beyond_ angry. His grandfather's map, the secret of the hidden entrance to Erebor, the original lifeline of this entire mission that had been entrusted to him, had gone up in flames. Thorin wanted to demand answers, wanted to know what insane circumstance could have caused this. He wanted to know if the Men were to blame or if the girl's clumsiness was the culprit.

On the other hand, though… Thorin knew he could not let his temper fly wild. Jenna was already in such a state, distressing her at this time would almost certainly set them back to square one, back to her jumpy, uncomfortable interactions with him. Even now, in that small cave, she had finally pulled her eyes away from the map to meet his gaze, waiting with such a look of vulnerability that he knew. How he handled this would dictate everything that followed.

Eventually, he broke eye contact, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. The fragile bridge they were building could not collapse yet. Not when he was so close to answers.

"Bilbo? Thorin?" came the voice of Gandalf as he wandered back down their way. "Miss Hollander? Bofur?"

Oddly enough, Master Baggins replied before any of them, clearing his throat and saying, "Yes, Gandalf. We're still here."

The Wizard rounded the corner and glanced between each of them, a look of concern sprouting. "Is everything quite alright?"

"Does _this_ look alright to you?" Thorin asked as he held up the piece of the map.

Gandalf's eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced at it, but then he casually answered, "Well, it certainly is upsetting, but fortunately for you, we have another."

A scowl ran across Thorin's face when Gandalf's attention moved to Jenna. The girl appeared less panicked and more exhausted now, though her eyes were still large, the tiny lines beneath her lower lids prominent.

"Regardless – I want to know what happened," Thorin said firmly, meeting her stare. "Do you know, Miss Hollander?"

She gave a few nods that were so small, one wouldn't see them if they hadn't been watching carefully. Her green eyes dropped to the vicinity of his boots as she brought her shaking hands up to sign, stopping and starting several times when her hands wouldn't cooperate. She began blinking rapidly midway, eyes wet again as she scowled and her mouth scrunched up, a few tears escaping despite her efforts to stop crying.

From beside Thorin came the nuances of Khuzdul.

 **"I don't think she can do this right now, Thorin,"** said Bofur, not impolite, but as one simply stating a fact. **"The lass can't even stop trembling enough to form a single word."**

Thorin, of course, knew the Miner was right, though replied irritably in the same tongue, **"I am well aware, but in case it has escaped your notice, this map is the only reason our quest has a chance."**

 **"Aye, and there still is a chance – it's sitting right there, bawling its eyes out,"** Bofur persisted.

This caused Thorin to pause for a moment, returning to his previous thoughts of setting back their progress. Exercising patience was… annoying.

Before he could reply, a familiar horn sounded from the direction of the tunnel where the rest of the Company was awaiting them. It was the same horn, of course, that signaled Elves.

"Oh dear," Gandalf muttered, turning to face the noise. "We should move along before they send someone to retrieve us. No doubt they've noticed several Dwarves standing on their cliff side."

Master Baggins stood up and grabbed his walking stick that had been set aside before holding out a hand for Jenna. Of course, he nearly fell over with the effort of helping her up, seeing as how she was not only heavier than him but also very unsteady at the moment. In the end, though, they were both on their feet.

"Where are we going, did you say?" asked the Hobbit, seeming to sense the topic of Elves.

Gandalf had a bit of a smile going as he said while walking away, "Someplace you've read about many times, my dear Bilbo, I'm sure. Come and see for yourself. It will be quite –"

"No. We will not seek refuge with our _enemy_ ," Thorin interrupted at once, making the Wizard stop and turn back to face him slowly.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said resolutely, gesturing down the tunnel with his staff. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the _Elves_ will give our quest their blessing?" ground out Thorin, tone low. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will; but we have questions that need to be answered," the Istari continued.

"Our questions _will_ be answered – and not by _them_ ," said Thorin.

Gandalf huffed, "Regardless of that matter, we are still in need of food and rest."

"We have made due with less. I will not rely on the so-called _goodwill_ of _Elves_ for… "

There was a long, noisy, shuddering sigh from across the cave, causing the arguing parties to glance over and trail off. Their only female was already walking towards the tunnel, scrubbing her sleeves over her face to clear her vision of tears. Or scrubbing them over her face in frustration. Or both.

"Miss Hollander," Thorin cautioned.

It was both. Jenna stopped right before the turn, waiting a long moment before looking back his way. Her expression was one of concentration and internal debate, but it did not seem like a choice of whether to stay or leave. It was something else, though he couldn't pinpoint what. After a few seconds, abruptly, her face fell as though she had been slapped and she turned away without warning, disappearing around the corner.

Thorin stared at the spot where she had been, utterly confused by her reaction. What in Mahal's name had he done _now?_

"Well then, I suppose we must follow the map, wouldn't you say?" Gandalf stated with much too smug a manner.

Bofur and Master Baggins were glancing between the two, inching towards the tunnel. When Gandalf turned and left, the Hobbit stopped inching and just hurried after him, leaving only a pair of Dwarves.

Thorin did not want to rely on Elves for anything, whatsoever. The thought of staying in Rivendell for even a few hours, let alone a few _days_ , made him start grinding his teeth again. However, they were in desperate need of a respite after that fiasco and they would most assuredly need more provisions, especially with the ponies gone. Travel would be slower, and they would use more of their supplies quicker due to that delay.

On top of that, after the look Jenna gave, he did not imagine she would change her direction easily. Short of bodily dragging away the already traumatized woman, he did not see how else to bring the map along.

Gandalf was right, again, and Thorin _hated_ it.

"Er… Should we…?" Bofur began, but the King was already walking after the others with a resigned glare. "Right."

* * *

Thorin was not overly fond of Rivendell.

From the very moment they stepped down from the pathway on the mountainside, there was a tension within the group. None of the Dwarves were looking forward to interacting with Elves in any fashion, and they were already on edge from their previous jaunt, so the additional stress was not welcome. It seemed the only ones who did not particularly care were Gandalf, Master Baggins, and to some degree, Jenna, though her lack of reaction was likely due to emotional fatigue.

The second horn they had heard, while in the cave, had been the arrival of one Lord Elrond. He seemed polite enough, greeting Gandalf with familiarity and a smile, the Company's involvement with the Wizard allowing them a similar welcome. Lord Elrond recognized Thorin Oakenshield for who he was, claiming to have known Thror during his rule in Erebor, but Thorin did not recall any tales of such acquaintanceship. Obviously it did not leave a large enough impression on his grandfather to warrant mention.

Their female member's condition, though, earned them a few looks of suspicion and distrust, which insulted Thorin _immensely_. However, Lord Elrond did not jump to conclusions and actually bothered to ask what happened, unlike a handful of the other Elves eyeballing them. Gandalf was quick to speak up, giving the briefest of explanations about the Men and the Wargs before Lord Elrond decided it would be a tale best told as they rest, and over a meal. The Company couldn't have agreed more.

They were all in need of a cleanup, though some more than others, and Gandalf made sure to inform their host of Jenna's muteness before arrangements were made. While a couple of the Dwarves were hesitant to separate from her after what had happened, it was obvious the girl was in desperate need of a bath and a change of clothes, the dried blood making portions of her short hair stand at odd angles. Jenna gave a wan smile to Bombur when he handed over her pack, but did not quite meet his gaze, or anyone's really, as she was guided away by two Elf maidens.

Shortly after, the Company was escorted by a different Elf, who went by the name of Lindir, to a spacious sitting area, available to "use as they saw fit". They were able to drop off their heavy gear and were given a small tour of sorts, showing them where the necessities and the baths were located, and then giving directions to where they would be dining. The majority of the Dwarves simply grumbled and occasionally snickered at whispered jokes about the frail architecture or the wispy lifestyle.

While it was not the mountains they were so used to living in, it was still much safer than what awaited outside of the valley. Despite this relative security and the promise of food, there was still an unusual quietness to the group as they washed and sorted themselves out, and Thorin realized their more lively members were slightly subdued. He spoke with Bofur briefly again about that morning's events, but Fili's and Kili's lack of enthusiasm stuck out to him the most, for obvious reasons.

The two princes, on top of being concerned about their friend, were also still not pleased with their uncle's secrecy.

"Why did you not tell us of the bounty?" Fili asked quietly, as they were preparing to head to dinner.

Thorin picked up his fur-lined coat before deciding against it, setting it back down with a heavy sigh, replying, "You did not need to know."

"We didn't need to know that our uncle has a target painted on his back?" Kili joined in, a bit louder, and then adjusted his volume with a quick glance at the others who were pretending not to hear. "Since when is that something we would not need to know?"

"Worrying you needlessly would not have achieved anything," Thorin answered in what was supposed to be a calming tone.

It did the opposite, in fact, their faces becoming more troubled as Kili said, "Needlessly? It was not a _needless_ worry, or Jenna would not have been kidnapped."

Thorin scowled at that, understanding where they were coming from, but seeing flaws regardless. "Knowing would not have stopped those Men from tracking us down," he explained. "We would still have been followed, and they would still have acted upon our absence, whether I had told you of the bounty or not."

Kili stared at him for a long moment before turning to lock eyes with Fili. The brunette's face seemed to soften a bit with some unspoken communication, eyes falling slightly, and he exhaled in a rush through his nose, knowing their uncle was right. Fili's own frown slowly deteriorated into a different sort of grimace.

"She will be alright though, won't she?" Fili questioned gently.

Thorin gave a small dip of his chin once, a tentative nod. "There were no signs of serious injury and she was able to run without issue, so yes. I believe so."

"That's not what I mean," the blonde said in a hushed tone.

There was a lengthy silence between the three of them, Thorin glancing away. "Of that, I am not certain," he finally answered. It depended upon the girl herself, he supposed, and how she would cope with not only a near death experience, but also the exposure to violence. It was asking… a bit much, for one such as her.

Though their concerns were not assuaged by the vague response, the tension lessened slightly as supper rolled around. The entire Company was starving beyond measure as they had not been able to eat since the previous night, some of them having gone even longer due to the Troll interruption. There was nothing quite like a hardy meal after a day of running for your life. Yet, that evening's fare was not exactly what one would call 'hardy'. Thorin had quite forgotten that Elves did not eat meat, for whatever reason he could not fathom.

Gandalf rejoined as they arrived at a large balcony, speaking with Lord Elrond once more and making a clever quip about not being dressed for dinner. The Elves had set up a small dining area for them on this large terrace, consisting of coffee tables that held an assortment of vegetables and fruits, and tall round cushions for their seating. Of course, being the leader, Thorin was invited to dine with Gandalf and Lord Elrond at their own round, wooden table.

The Dwarf King gave the scene a casual quick sweep as they sat down, not seeing any sign of Jenna… He paused at this thought, unable to recall making that mental switch. No sign of _Miss Hollander_ then.

"Do not worry so. I am told the lady will be here momentarily," said Lord Elrond with a slight upturn of the lips. Not enough to be smug, but enough to show certainty in his words.

Thorin glanced at the Elf, somewhat irritated that he could tell what he was looking for, though he was not worried per say. There was a pause before Lord Elrond's attention shifted, focusing on something beyond, just past the dining Company.

"Ah, here she is," Lord Elrond observed.

To say Miss Hollander looked better after having a bath would be… an overstatement. Cleaner? Yes. Better? Thorin wasn't sure. Not due to any shortcoming of her own subtle beauty, but rather the circumstance of the first time they actually got to see her in traditional female clothing.

With the blood and grime gone, there was nothing to camouflage the blossoming bruise on her face, which was possibly the most disconcerting aspect. The powder blue dress chosen for her was ill-fitting, though there was likely no other option with the contrast between her figure and that of an Elf's, causing the garment to hug her middle and swamp all else. She kept readjusting to prevent the shoulders from slipping down where they were meant to settle. This gave off an air of discomfort, but the discretion was appreciated, given what lie on one of those arms.

Miss Hollander's arrival gave the Company pause as they took in the same things he had: Cleaner? Yes. Better? They were also not sure.

Her discomfort increased at the stares and she ducked her head, but Bofur was the first to break the silence, knowing their reaction was not helping matters. The cheerful Dwarf put on a happy face, greeting her like normal and waving her over to the table, causing the others to catch on and invite her with the same warmth. Miss Hollander tilted her head back up with a faint smile. She was avoiding eye with all of them though, only meeting looks for a split second before glancing away at other things.

Either way, his whole Company was accounted for, so Thorin returned his attention to their host and the Wizard who were having a brief catch-up. Gandalf brought up the subject of the blades found in the Troll hoard, asking Thorin to bring his forth and allow Lord Elrond to identify them. The curved sword was named _Orcrist_ , the Goblin Cleaver, apparently, and was passed back to Thorin with approval of its new ownership. That was certainly a pleasant surprise, as he quite liked how the weapon handled.

After discovering the name of the second sword – _Glamdring_ , the Foe Hammer – Gandalf began speaking of their unfortunate encounter with the Orcs on the Great East Road. Of course, Lord Elrond then asked why they were on that trail in the first place, summoning a tension at the table. Thorin chose this moment to excuse himself from their chat, irritated with the Wizard for allowing that subject to already surface.

Instead, Thorin hovered near his comrades' tables with a flask in hand, observing. Since Miss Hollander's return, the mood seemed to lift slightly from its previous limbo, the most rambunctious of the Dwarves acting up again to bring a smile to her face.

For the most part, it was working. It was for Thorin, at any rate. Many complaints of the gentle flutes and sleepy harp string melodies persuaded Bofur to hop up on their table, using it to step over to a pedestal in the center of the balcony, and start belting out a much more lively song.

 _"There's an… Inn, There's an Inn,_

 _There's a merry old Inn, beneath an old grey hill._

 _And there they brew a beer so brown_

 _The Man in the Moon himself came down_

 _One night to drink his fill!"_

Tapping his foot to the tune, Thorin could not help but smile at the way his friends and kin began singing along, loudly and happily, causing a ruckus at the once peaceful dinner. They were relaxed enough to do so, and that was all that mattered to him. Plus, it was amusing to see the bafflement on the faces of the Elves.

 _"The ostler has a tipsy cat_

 _That plays a five-stringed fiddle;_

 _And up and down he saws his bow,_

 _Now squeaking high, now purring low…_

 _Now sawing in the middle!"_

Soon, bits of lettuce and a myriad of chopped vegetables were flying through the air, tossed about with delight at the commotion brought on by the song. Kili chucked a pastry of some kind at the Elf that showed them their temporary quarters – Landor? Lendil? – and Thorin was torn between wanting to scold him for targeting a host, and wanting to scold him for missing said target.

In the midst of this chaos was Miss Hollander. She had gotten a few chuckles out of the whole thing, faint smiles here and there, but she was already back to that somber expression as she poked at her food. The plate had hardly been touched. While this was true for many of the plates (before their contents had been scattered, that is), Thorin did not believe it was for the same reason.

This assumption was furthered when the girl gave a few cautious glances around the table, smoothly standing from her seat to avoid notice. All attention was on Bofur as he continued with another verse anyway, so her retreat was hardly registered as she gathered the excess material of her skirt to keep it from dragging the ground, tiptoeing away with a lowered gaze.

Balin noticed as well, however, sharing a meaningful look with Thorin. They both knew someone must speak with her about what had happened, and the white-haired Dwarf sighed, preparing to stand from his seat to do just that.

Thorin took a few strides closer, making a subtle 'stay' gesture with his hand that the other caught just in time to stop from getting up. He capped his flask and stuck it back in his inner coat pocket, heading away down the steps in the direction he saw the girl go.

The sun had almost completed its descent, and so many Elves had already lit the evenly dispersed candelabras. While Rivendell was a veritable labyrinth of breezeways, forestry motif engravings, and decorative arches, Thorin had no trouble keeping Miss Hollander in his sights. That is, until he rounded a corner and did not see her in the hallway she should have been in.

He looked around a moment before realizing there was an archway off to the side, slightly darkened by the upcoming evening, which led to another small terrace. Thorin located one of the fragile lanterns nearby and realized, with some amount of irritation, that he could not reach it. _Damn Elves…_ He instead settled for bringing back one of the taller candelabras from down the hall.

Sure enough, when he stepped outside, Miss Hollander was off to the right of the doorway. Sitting against the wall with her legs crisscrossed beneath her dress, the girl was resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

Thorin set the candelabra nearby, the clank of it against the stone floor making Miss Hollander jump and look towards the noise. Her eyes were watery again as she stared at him in confusion, scowling a little bit before turning her head away to wipe off her face, even though he had already plainly seen the tears.

He wondered if perhaps Balin should have come instead after all.

Deciding there was nothing else for it, as he was already here, Thorin also took a seat against the wall, a little less than an arm's length away from the girl. Any further away and he would have been right in the doorway.

 _'Can I help you?'_ she signed curtly, frowning at his boot instead of meeting his eyes.

Thorin thought for a moment, wondering where to begin and how. This was not their usual, business-like interaction of questions and answers, leaving a giant gap in their experience conversing with one another. Only recently had there been any casual exchanges; if those could even qualify as exchanges, that is. So he settled for something simple, which covered his general concerns.

"What happened?"

This was apparently the wrong phrasing, as Miss Hollander's brows lowered further. She blinked rapidly a few times, lips tightening into a line, and stared straight ahead as she explained, _'Map was on the box, and the box got kicked. Map fell and –"_

Ah, she thought…?

"No," he interrupted, causing her to stop with some amount of confusion. "What happened to _you_ , Miss Hollander?"

She did meet his gaze then, finally. He could not help but feel a little offended at the blatant surprise that fluttered across her face, but then again, the map had been his main interest when last they saw each other, and the majority of their discussions revolved around it besides.

It was obvious when the question sunk in, that he was asking about her and not a sheet a paper, for Miss Hollander's eyes began shining and her face fell as she became restless. She crossed her arms first before bringing up one hand to cover her mouth, and then she ducked her head, using that free hand to encompass the upper half of her face. Of course, this did nothing to hide the harsh downward turn of her lips, the visibly gritted teeth, and the shaking of her shoulders as she hunched over.

Thorin did not need to hear the snuffles to know she was crying once again.

She shook her head without lifting it, though he did not think it was a response to anything in particular. It seemed it was just a general motion while she tried to collect herself and he sat there, wondering how to handle this situation. He thought of the many times he had soothed Fili and Kili, and Dís, when she was younger.

There was some debate on Thorin's part before he gradually laid a hand on her back and started making a gentle, circular motion. The gesture was vague and safe, and appeared to do its job.

Miss Hollander tensed up at first before realizing what he was doing, actually sobbing harder at the offered comfort. It took a long while, several minutes of crying perhaps, before most of it was out of her system and she was able to relax. Her shoulders dropped and the snuffles tapered off, accompanied by intermittent trembling, a deep sigh capping the entire thing. Eventually she sat up straighter, wiping at her face with the long silky sleeves of her dress.

Thorin let his hand fall away as the girl met his eyes, her green ones puffy and bloodshot again. He readjusted, bringing up a knee to rest his arm on, as she gave a flimsy smile and self-depreciative eye roll while shaking her head.

 _'Sorry,'_ Miss Hollander timidly said.

It was his turn to give a slight head shake, saying, "There is no need to apologize."

A look of gratitude crossed her face briefly, before she gave another long sigh and gazed out at the balcony in front of them. While the candelabra was their main light source, the moon was quite bright on its own as well, and Thorin waited patiently until she was ready.

 _'We were to go find you, but the men attacked us,'_ she started simply. He knew this already from Bofur's account, but he decided to let her tell it how she wished. _'Gavin went after Bofur, Jean after me.'_

"You knew their names?" Thorin asked, quirking a brow.

 _'Only because they say to each other when first I saw them,'_ Miss Hollander explained. He gave a slight nod, and she continued. _'Sticks from fire got kicked out by Gavin when he fight Bofur. Map was on box, where left, and Jean tried to kick me when I was in front of box. I moved, box was kicked, map fall on the floor. I looked for thing to use in fight and sticks were there, from fire. I burned Jean but dropped the stick when he hit me.'_

Thorin was mildly impressed by her resourcefulness, though he did wish she had some proper training to implement it with, and that the circumstances had not lead to the map's burning.

She kept going when he made no interruptions, a small frown appearing as she went over the memory. _'Jean used me as hostage and Gavin… hurt Bofur. Knocked him out. I could not get away. I saw map on floor and stick from fire on it before they knocked me out too.'_

So it was indeed a freak accident, caused by the chaos of the struggle and sealed with attempted self-defense. Thorin wanted something to blame the destruction of his grandfather's map on, something to take his frustration out on, but there was nothing. The Men were dead and Miss Hollander did not warrant his ire. She fought as best she could, and he could not blame her for protecting herself.

There was a break while Miss Hollander glanced at him, as though she was still not sure if he wanted her to continue beyond the map's demise. He tilted his chin down and lifted his brows slightly, a sign for her to go on, and so she did, with some hesitance. She told him of waking up and hearing the men speak of the Company and the Trolls, and she told him of nearly escaping, only to be caught and taken away by the one called Gavin, while the other one went to spy on the Dwarves' predicament.

Thorin felt something amiss when the girl explained about being tied up. She paused in signing for a moment, an odd look of indecision on her face as she glanced at his boot again and then away, before she continued, obviously skipping a segment of time.

 _'I used the whistle, Gavin attacked me, was going to kill me. I hear growl and Warg jump on him… Bite…'_ Miss Hollander's hands were shaking again, but she managed to finish up. _'Warg almost kill me too. You and Kili and Dwalin saved me. I… never thanked.'_

There was another second of stillness as he waited, the girl clearly in thought.

 _'So… thank you,'_ she said after a while, now through with her tale, setting her hands in her lap.

Thorin gave a nod of welcome, knowing he only did what anyone with any sense of morality would do. He readjusted as he thought, settling into a similar position as her, but with a leg extended across the stone floor. There was still one thing he was very concerned about, but didn't know how to ask, or if he even should. He felt responsible for all in his Company and the possibility that such a thing occurred would disturb his conscience if he did not. Those two Men had no qualms about injuring this young woman, so why would they have any about maltreatment of another kind?

"The Men," Thorin began uneasily, "They did not... mistreat you in other ways?"

Miss Hollander was frowning in confusion for a moment before she realized what he was asking. She looked horrified, shaking her head rapidly, and the tension left Thorin's body in a rush as he let go of the breath stalled in his lungs.

Her head shakes grew smaller as she turned to stare at the ground a few feet in front of her, biting her lip. With some hesitance, she brought her hands up again to say, _'Gavin… tried. Did not get very far before Jean came back and stopped him.'_

Ah, so his guess about her odd pause was right. He wished it hadn't been, of course, a scowl cropping up at the thought of what almost happened, but was grateful the outcome was not worse.

"I am sorry we couldn't come to your aid sooner," Thorin added.

Miss Hollander shook her head again slightly, giving him a tired smile that held no humor, however, still reassured that she was doing alright for now. _'But you did come.'_

"Of course," he responded, glancing at her. "How could we not?"

She gave a small shrug, causing her sleeve to slip down again as she signed, _'Very easily.'_

"Not so for a Dwarf with any measure of honor," he replied, glancing down at the movement. Thorin's eyes were automatically drawn to the exposed tattoo, to the image of The Lonely Mountain and the red firedrake circling above. It was still so strange to see; the few times he had actually observed it had been so short, with one particular viewing much more awkward than the others. This thought reminded him that no matter the illustration, he was still ogling a young woman's shoulder, and so pulled his gaze away to stare at the balcony railing.

Of course, Miss Hollander shook her head and snorted a bit, causing him to look back over just in time to see her roll her eyes.

He frowned, asking, "What?"

 _'It is okay,'_ she responded confidently, though becoming more timid the longer he looked at her. _'Map belonged to your grandfather so you have right to be curious. But I am sorry your map burned. It was imp…'_ She struggled for a moment before changing her wording. _'It mean a lot to you. I am sorry.'_

"While it is regrettable, I cannot blame you for what happened," Thorin supposed, sighing and sitting up a little straighter. "However, as Gandalf said, there is another. Had there been but one…" He trailed off as he stared at the tattoo again, feeling cold at the very thought of the quest for his homeland ending so abruptly, when it had barely begun.

Miss Hollander watched him thoughtfully for a long moment, nibbling on her lip. Suddenly she was readjusting again, pulling at her left sleeve and shrugging right out of it, alarming him until he realized what on earth she was doing. Holding the dress in place over her chest with her free hand, she offered up her tattooed arm for him to sate his curiosity. Just below the inking was a fresh bandage as well. It was not Oín's handiwork, and Thorin knew it must have been tended to by one of the Elves earlier.

The King was torn between being uncomfortable at the situation and relieved that he could freely look upon the remaining map, an odd reassurance that his mission was not at its end. He did not know if she meant it to be such a gesture, or if she was simply getting it out of the way, but the offer was appreciated. He deliberated for a second, trying to decide how to go about this, having a mental battle of propriety versus interest. Had it been anything else, anything other than Thror's map, there would not even be a dispute, and the curiosity would easily have been under control.

However, it _was_ very much Thror's map.

Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, Thorin met her eyes with a question as he lifted his hand slightly. She only nodded, giving him the go ahead to adjust the arm as need be, so he slowly took hold of her wrist between a thumb and two fingers, grip very loose. He studied the image, using his other hand to guide her arm, and she maneuvered accordingly with very little prompting, allowing him to investigate the front of the tattoo first. Everything was exactly the same. He had stared at the original enough times over the past few weeks to know.

Choosing to ignore the softness of Miss Hollander's skin, he focused instead on adjusting her arm once more, going back over all that she had told him this evening. Her Iglishmêk was vastly improved, and Thorin realized she could very well be ready to tell him what the map said of the hidden door.

That was about when he noticed the faint, nearly invisible addition on the back of her arm.

Previously concealed by angles and lighting, on a part that was no longer accessible from his paper copy, were more ancient runes. They were etched in what looked to be white ink, of all things, and though he could not double check, he knew they were not on the original. Thorin's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to get a better view, running a finger along the image in confusion.

"What is this…?" he asked quietly. When there was no movement or attempt to sign in response, he straightened up and removed his hands. "Those runes were not on the other."

Miss Hollander's lips were pursed as she stared at the ground, a bit of a frown on her face as well. There was something she was not telling him, and eventually, she gave a nod. What…?

"So they _were_? Why is it that we could not see them?" Thorin questioned, becoming anxious in a way he hadn't been since first seeing the map. It was always something with this woman – more secrets, more hidden knowledge, more unexplainable happenings.

Her mouth came open slightly as though she wanted to speak, but brought up her hands to sign. _'They were –'_ Of course, that was when she remembered her hand had been holding up the dress, and he caught sight of some corset before she frantically slapped her hand back over the cloth. Her cheeks turned red as she hunched her shoulders and ran the free hand down her face.

"Thorin? Miss Hollander?"

Oh, excellent timing.

Gandalf poked around the corner, coming out onto the balcony before he actually took in the scene of an utterly embarrassed Miss Hollander and a Dwarf King who was pointedly glaring at him.

"Am I interrupting?" Gandalf asked, brows raised.

If possible, the girl shrank down more, even her shoulders tingeing pink as she shook her head.

Thorin took that opportunity to stand, turning to help Miss Hollander do the same. She took his offered hand and was back on her feet, avoiding eye contact for multiple reasons.

"Actually, you arrived just in time," said Thorin, gesturing to the tattoo before looking back. "There were apparently hidden runes on the map. Were you aware of this?"

Gandalf stared at the girl for a moment and she gave a sheepish look, as though she were caught doing something she shouldn't. The Wizard sighed then, saying, "I had my suspicions. Though I knew nothing for certain, that is actually why I came to retrieve you. Lord Elrond agreed to have a look at –"

"You told him of the map?" Thorin asked heatedly.

"Of course," Gandalf said, completely certain of his decision. "He is one of the few in Middle Earth who can even read ancient Dwarfish runes."

"We do not need the Elf's _help_ , as I have told you a thousand times over," replied Thorin, with slightly more volume. He glanced over to Miss Hollander, about to state his point that she was ready to tell them on her own, but her face did not agree.

She had slipped her sleeve back on as they were speaking, and was able to sign freely again when he paused. Hesitantly, she said, _'I think… Elrond should still read it. The tattoo.'_

Obviously, Thorin didn't understand where she was coming from. "Why should he? Your Iglishmêk is plenty adequate. I do not see why you cannot simply tell us what it says," he objected.

 _'The words…'_ she said, trying to shrug away her previous embarrassment to face him head on about this. _'They must be right. Exact and right. I do not want to remember wrong. Or to sign wrong. I get wrong and… and you will not open door.'_

Thorin stared at her for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Gandalf had already told Lord Elrond of the map, though how many details were revealed was not clear, and Miss Hollander was not confident enough in her fluency or memory to guarantee an exact recollection. According to her, the wording was of grave importance. According to the girl sent from another world; who knew of Erebor and their quest, who knew of the Battle of Azanulbizar, who knew the Halfling would forget his handkerchief.

Miss Hollander was watching him, green eyes hopeful that he would not place this weight on her. If she got it wrong and they were unable to enter Erebor...

He worked his jaw, exhaling sharply, breaking eye contact to look at the Wizard.

"So be it."

* * *

 **Finally in Rivendell now. :)**

 **Let me know what you thought of this chapter. The Thorin chapters make me the most nervous, because there's so much to balance out, but you all have been very good about making your thoughts known. I trust you guys!**

 **Thank you so much for reading~!**

 **Until next time. ;D**


	19. The Spiral

_**Wow, so… longest wait between chapters yet, right? Yeah. I wish I had some sort of excuse (besides work and making payments on a car for the first time) but for a while there I just wasn't in The Hobbit mood, you know? Gotta take breaks from even the best of things. But anyway, I'm back! Can't stay away from this fandom for long. It's too good. :D**_

 _ **Also, I'm going to be adding my tumblr to my profile, since that's the website I use most outside of this one.**_

 _ **Also ALSO, the dearest Durinsdottir made a collage for TLS! Isn't that the coolest?! It's the coolest. She's amazingggg. I'll throw that link into my profile as well. (You should totally check out her Hobbit fic here on ff when you get a chance!)**_

 _ **To**_ **Julie:** _ **Haha I could actually use all the inspiration I can get, but thank you for having so much faith in me! And don't be too concerned. I'm alive and well, as you can see. LoL**_

 _ **Anyway, you guys have waited long enough. :)**_

 _ ***EDIT* I was in too much of a hurry and forgot like, one sentence that needed to be in here for continuity sake, but we good now. lol**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Rivendell would have been great, were it not for the downward spiral back into depression.

In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Zapping to Middle Earth didn't magically change who I was or what kind of chemical imbalance I had in my brain, and having a dude get mangled right above me, on _top_ of being kidnapped, was just too much. We hadn't even crossed the Misty Mountains and I was throwing in the towel, calling it quits.

After my breakdown in the cave, I couldn't sit there and listen to Thorin and Gandalf argue about the Valley of Imladris. I had just spent the entire run for our lives telling myself to wait for Rivendell, so like hell if I was going to prolong it any more. Thorin called to me as I walked to the tunnel, of course, a warning to stop, because he did not want anything to do with Elves, but I couldn't even look him in the eyes for more than two seconds before I realized he was going to die. I mean, like, _actually_ die.

Yavanna was an idiot for choosing me, because I wouldn't be able to do shit for these guys.

That's what I told myself after my freak out, anyway, and that's what I told myself as we descended into the Valley, as Fili and Kili asked how I was doing and I shook my head. They were hurt and a bit confused at my refusal to interact, so I shot them an apologetic look before we stepped up to the small stone bridge. It wasn't just an apology for my cold shoulder, but they didn't know that.

Lord Elrond was already there in the entry courtyard, due to our delay in the tunnel, at least sparing us from the drama of getting encircled by the worst welcome committee ever. Some still mounted on horses, the Elves were a little on edge, but not so much upon seeing the way Elrond greeted Gandalf with their word for 'friend' (one of the few Sindarin words I could actually recognize in conversation). Our Company was obviously not here to cause any trouble.

I was still looking a hot mess regardless, and earned a few odd stares from the locals before Elrond saw fit to inquire about my paint job. Not in so many words, exactly, though after the brief interaction between Thorin and Lord Elrond, which led to the offer of dinner for the Company, the issue of my appearance came forth.

"Might I ask what happened to the Lady…?" Elrond paused, waiting for someone to speak up.

"Hollander. Jenna Hollander," Gandalf answered, meeting my tired gaze briefly, before turning back to our host. "An unfortunate run-in with Wargs, I'm afraid. Scouts for the Orc pack you came across, no doubt, though she was separated from us by a pair of scoundrels from Bree at the time. A kidnapping, you see."

Elrond's brows furrowed slightly as he looked to me. "I am sorry to hear of such an incident, so close to our Valley, no less. Though I do wish to know more, I am sure this tale can be told over dinner. A bath and a bit of rest would not be out of order, I assume?"

I shook my head a little, probably looking like a zombie. Good first impression, I tell you what.

Lord Elrond seemed to get that I wasn't in any state to "converse", and looked over to two Elf maidens waiting nearby. He gave a nod as some kind of unspoken signal, and they stepped over to us gracefully and carefully, understanding my less-than-ideal mental position.

"This is the Lady Lieren," Elrond said, and the tallest of the two, with light brown hair, dipped her chin a bit, "And this, the Lady Nadri." The second Elf dipped her head as well. She had darker hair, closer to the shade of the norm here, and looked familiar for some reason I couldn't place. My autopilot mode didn't allow for recognition, so I brushed it off.

Elrond continued, "If you would allow, they will show you to a room you may use."

There was a weird tension from the Company at that, but I was too afraid of meeting three specific Dwarven gazes to really look around and figure out why. During this, Bombur came up beside us, my backpack in hand. Honestly I had forgotten all about the damn thing, and I forced a smile that was lackluster in every sense of the word, as a pitiful thank you. It was all I had.

I kept my eyes lowered as Lieren and Nadri led me up the stone steps and around some pillars, out of the Company's sight. There had been a small hope in my chest that I would relax once I wasn't around any Durins, but of course, my body wasn't having any of that.

We wound our way up through the airy halls and the beautiful architecture, with me trying to force myself to enjoy it. The sights were amazing, with paths looking out over gardens and all kinds of courtyards and walkways, but I just found myself thinking of the same depressing thoughts, over and over.

The two Elf women finally reached the door and led me inside. The room looked about like I had expected, and while there weren't any free pillow mints, it was definitely a step up from the Prancing Pony. For one, it smelled better, and two, the furniture looked like it would cost me a kidney if I broke anything. One wall of the room was mostly open, with decorative wooden vines snaking their way around the giant glassless window, and it made me uncomfortable for a moment until I realized there was no way for anyone to see inside with the way the building was positioned.

The bed in the center was mostly simple other than the headboard, which was as intricate as everything else, and it matched the two small tables on either side, as well as the longer, slim table against the opposite wall. There wasn't any chest of drawers or wardrobe or anything, which cemented the look of 'guest room'. The other decorative window, positioned above the bed, let in enough natural light to keep it lively though, and that light bounced off a well-placed mirror above the table against the wall. They really knew how to make the most of a space, for sure.

"I shall find you a change a clothes while you bathe," spoke the Lady Lieren for the first time, glancing at my ruined sweatpants, then looking to her companion. "Nadri will show you the way."

Though all the Elves looked eternally youthful, Nadri seemed young on her own, and not simply because of immortality. She gave a slight nod, meeting my gaze for a second to make sure I was going to follow and made her way out. I set my backpack down on the long table uncertainly after taking my whistle from my hoodie pocket and putting it in for safe keeping, and shuffled after Nadri.

The small bath wasn't that far away at all, only a few windows and a left turn between it and my temporary room. While the walls of the bathroom were only comprised of a swirling stone lattice pattern, it was so overgrown with climbing plants that nobody would be able to see through anyway. The room itself was maybe half the size of the bedroom, with the in-ground tub taking up half of that, and a small nook off to the right that I could only guess held the toilet.

"The towels," said Nadri, gesturing to a neatly folded pile of cloth on a waist high shelf (well, waist height for her, almost boob height for me), then moving her dainty hand slightly to motion towards a shelf on the other side of the room. "The soaps."

I looked at the bars of whatever-the-fuck-they-make-their-soap-out-of and wondered briefly if they had any lavender in that pile. Mine was almost gone.

"Should you require assistance, I will be just down the hall," Nadri said with a departing bow of her chin, stepping out of the room and closing a velvety curtain behind her. I supposed these guys had never had problems with peeping Toms or anything, considering how lax their doors and walls were… Either way, it wasn't like I could afford to be nitpicky.

There were birds chirping just on the other side of the not-quite-walls, and the light of the lowering sun filtered through the plants and latticework, giving the room a pleasant, green and golden glow. I worried for a second that if I stayed in here too long, the sun would go down and leave me without light, but then I noticed two lit sconces above each toiletry shelf. Did they light that on the way here or what? I really hadn't been paying attention, so it was very possible.

Before I could bathe, I went to take care of my business in the weird toilet nook, realizing with a numb sort of aggravation that I was still – in fact – on my period. My escapades over the course of the night had left me no time to change anything, so of course there had been… uhh… problems with containment. By some truly demented, upside-down coincidence, there was already so much blood splattered on my pants that nobody was able to tell anything had gone awry with my lady times.

What kind of morbid luck was _that?_

I really tried not to think on it too much. Once I slipped out of my boots and peeled off the blood encrusted clothing, I realized the air temperature was just right, despite the whole room basically being outdoors. I chalked it up to Rivendell's inexplicable magic, hoping the same could be said for the water temperature. Washing in chilly creeks gets real old, real fast.

There was nothing to worry about though, I knew, as I approached the tub and felt the warmth radiate upwards. I had grabbed a washcloth and a bar of the strange soap – unfortunately not lavender, but instead a very odd blend of rosemary and something else I couldn't place – and dipped a toe in the water. There was a small step inside the tub, and eventually I slid all the way in, basically melting as the cozy heat soaked into my tired body.

I flinched as my arm stung, and I remembered belatedly that my wound had opened again. That dumbass, tying my arms behind my back like that…

For a few blissful minutes I had forgotten, or at least ignored, what had happened. As I blinked around at the water, watching it tinge pink with Gavin's blood, I suddenly didn't want to be in this tub any longer than I had to. It was a shame, really, since it was the first warm bath I'd had in a month, but it just wasn't sanitary. Even in death, that bastard had to ruin everything.

I wound up getting back out of the tub, sitting on the edge and using the washcloth to deal with the worst of the mess. My cut, once the wet bandages were peeled off, was revealed to be bleeding again. Not nearly as bad as that initial gash, but enough to tell me the healing had taken a step backwards. I simply bit my lip in frustration, ignoring the slowly oozing blood for the moment as I washed the rest of myself. There were a few bruises on my arms where the Men had grabbed, I noted with irritation, and it felt like there were some small ones along the crook of my neck, though I would have to wait to look in the mirror to know for sure if they were noticeable. Judging by the tenderness of my face and how much it hurt to make most expressions, there was surely something visible on my cheek by now, too.

When it came time to clean my hair, I just kind of laid on my back next to the tub with my head over the edge. It wasn't comfortable, and I almost slid back in head first, but I was not, under any circumstances, catching some disease from that creep.

During all of this, my brain felt like it had gotten anesthesia from a dentist, and that numbness was trying to wear off as I casually thought about some guy's lifeblood as if it were no big deal. I didn't want my brain to work again honestly, because I knew that would mean yet another breakdown, but what did I expect? To walk away from this completely unfazed? To get through this with the composure of an experienced warrior like Thorin? Uh, yeah right.

I was still lying on the ground next to the tub as I stared at the curved ceiling, my throat feeling thick with tears again. I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't used to this.

Being on my back was a mistake, as I was only reminded of the Warg, hovering over me. _Fangs, dripping blood… yellow eyes…_ I jolted upright, getting a slight headache from sitting up too fast. This was… not okay. _I_ was not okay.

"Lady Hollander?"

Already tense, I started at the voice. When I realized it was nothing to worry about, I sighed and made to stand, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself before the curtain was pulled back by Nadri.

"Dinner will soon be ready," she told me, a small crease appearing between her brows as she added, "And we have found a few dresses that may be suitable for your… figure."

I frowned slightly at the pause.

Nadri picked up on this, returning her face to a softer, neutral expression. "I do not mean offense, my lady. Your shape is simply different to ours, and finding an appropriate dress took longer than we had expected."

My frown loosened a bit, knowing she was just being honest. It wasn't her fault that Elves apparently didn't have reason to invent plus sizes, so I went to go pick up my clothes and bring them with me.

"If you will leave those, we shall have them cleaned and returned to you," Nadri interrupted before I could grab them. I hesitated, really wanting my bra and panties at least, but knew that the blood would bother me if I didn't have them washed. Here's to hoping Elven magic included getting horrible stains out of sweatpants?

As I turned, Nadri's sharp brown eyes locked onto my tattoo with interest. I paused, trying to casually shift my body again to put the map out of her sight, though I wasn't sure why exactly I didn't want her to see it.

When the tattoo was no longer visible, she blinked and met my eyes for a moment before turning on her heels, letting go of the curtain with a short, "Come."

Leaving the clothes as instructed, we came back to the original room to find the Lady Lieren standing beside the bed. There were three dresses laid across the bedspread, two of them laughably incorrect for my body type, and the third barely doable. They really expected me to fit my XL ass into _that_?

The two Elves seemed to sense my doubt, and while Nadri glided over to gather some weird undergarments for me from the table – I guessed they were brought in with the dresses – Lieren came to inspect my injured arm. Of course, she stilled upon recognizing that my tattoo was more than just a tattoo, her intrigue just as plain as Nadri's had been. She said nothing, however, wandering off and coming back with a small collection of items, some of which included feminine products. I wanted to ask how they knew, but I also _didn't_ want to know how they knew, so it was probably for the best that I couldn't talk and make a fool of myself.

Freshly bathed, with clean undergarments on, period protection in place, and a new bandage around my arm, I almost felt human again, if a little uncomfortable with the foreign bra setup. Despite my breasts being relatively small, we still had problems getting them to settle just right with the corset, but I was not waltzing out there without some kind of support or coverage. My ladies did not want to say hello to every Dwarf and Elf within a mile, so with some determined lace maneuvering on Nadri's part, it was eventually adjusted correctly.

We had ruled out the first two dresses as much too small. One was a pretty maroon thing I really wished I could have worn and the other one a deep green that would have matched my eyes perfectly, so I was pretty salty about my… er, _curvaceous_ figure by the time we reached the third one.

The color was nice enough – a light blue that reminded me of the sky – but it was still obviously made for a more slender woman. The only reason it fit was because the long sleeves were loose and flowy, and the waist flared out further upwards than the others, giving an almost, but not quite, empire cut. It had a neckline that was almost straight across though, causing the sleeves to rest off the shoulder, leaving my tattoo exposed. I suspected the other Elves would have similar reactions to that of Nadri and Lieren, and so tried my best to keep the sleeves up, not wanting to be stared at any more than necessary. The two ladies insisted that's how the dress was meant to settle, but I stubbornly kept pulling the shoulders up. After it became clear I wouldn't stop fidgeting with them, no more was said of the matter.

Nadri excused herself about then, leaving Lieren to figure out which pair of slippers I could actually wear. Once again, it was a hit or miss, with several misses that left me agitated and kind of wishing I could just go to bed and forego dinner altogether.

Sleep wasn't in the cards just yet though, and finally we found a pair of the silky shoes that worked.

I glanced over to the mirror for the first time, so I could fix my hair, cringing a bit when I saw how gigantic the bruise on my face was. Holy shit, no wonder it was so sore! At least the tiny bruises on my neck were pretty faint… Hopefully the dismal zone of reds and purples on my cheek would be enough distraction from the mess atop my head, since I couldn't seem to get my hair to lay down just right without any modern products, and it had grown slightly fluffy since the start of all this, making it ten times worse.

Lieren glanced at my hair as well, deeming it a lost cause without actually saying so, just as I had. Instead, she walked towards the door and said, "Follow please, and I will show you to where your companions are dining."

So, I followed.

Meeting back up with the Company was simultaneously a relief and a curse. On one hand, walking up and seeing all their faces safe and sound was great, but on the other hand, I had already told myself I was done with this quest, so I had this little guilt monster eating away at me. Coming around the corner, with Lieren veering off and leaving me to enter the large dining balcony by myself, was just as awkward as I predicted.

All thirteen Dwarves (and one Hobbit) paused, growing silent when I stepped into view. The music provided by the Elves was the only saving grace, otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have heard crickets. I didn't want to meet any eyes, but I was too curious to know what they were thinking, so I finally lifted my head a bit to take in the Company at their two tables, with Gandalf and Thorin sitting off at a special table with Elrond. (I took particular care not to look that direction.) Was it too much to hope they were simply awestruck by my newly-revealed sex appeal, like so many fanfictions I had read?

I was too busy cringing to laugh at my own internal joke. Yeah, no, they were definitely _not_ staring at any curves, except maybe the slight swell of my bruised cheek.

"Lass, ye look, well… Ye look well!" Bofur tried, turning to give a meaningful look to the others, like I wouldn't catch onto what he was doing.

"Yes, very nice color on you!" Kili said reassuringly, then backpedaled to amend, "The dress, of course, not the… um." He tapped his cheek awkwardly before realizing he was just making it worse, and finally dropped his hand and his gaze with a wince. Fili, from the other table, gave his brother a head shake of disbelief.

I tried to give a smile, but both my cheek and my mood were having none of it. The sight of Fili and Kili did nothing to alleviate my guilt as I was waved over by the eldest prince to sit at the end of the table where they had saved a seat.

"You look fine, so no need to fret about it," Balin said as I passed by and sat a few seats away, probably mistaking my awkward sleeve readjustments as self-conscious fidgets. The table was small enough for him to continue, "Though, are you holding up well enough, lass?"

Ha.

I did give a very short, actual laugh at that, because I found it genuinely funny. Was I holding up well enough? _Was I holding up well enough?_ Honestly, I had no idea how I was holding anything together without duct tape and super glue.

Seeming to understand that I was not doing so hot, Balin pursed his lips and gave a small nod, also understanding I didn't want to speak of it right now.

After a moment, conversations started up again, and I could tell the Company was trying to get back in the rhythm of normalcy, at least partially for my sake. Bombur passed me some wine – ridiculously strong wine that I only took like, two sips of – from my left, and Fili passing me some veggies from my right. At the other table, Bofur and Kili kept glancing over, sending telepathic messages to their brothers to check on me. It was very touching and all, but I really didn't want the attention to be on me just then, and I kept gradually slouching to try and disappear until they got the picture.

At the other table, I could barely hear some hushed conversation about Elf maids, knowing that Kili was probably mistaking a male for a female right about then. Surely enough, there was a bout of laughter, and Bofur gave Kili a pat on the back in good humor.

I glanced around at our hosts to spot the Elf guy that had been confused for a woman, kind of able to see how they would be confused by the effeminacy. My eyes went past him and I was surprised to spot Nadri across the balcony, playing the large harp, finally understanding why she looked so familiar the first time I saw her. She gave me a nod and continued playing, much to the distaste of the Dwarves.

Unfortunately, a little after I began trying to nibble on some vegetables, Thorin stood from his table and walked over to join his friends and kin, bringing him despairingly close to where I was seated. He pulled out a personal flask, taking a few drinks and watching the others slowly become more and more rowdy. Their impatience with a traditional Elven dinner was enough to stick a bit of a smile on his face, and my appetite was suddenly missing in action.

Nori, being seated the closest to Nadri, complained in her direction that he felt like he was at a funeral. I felt slightly bad for her. The music was actually quite relaxing, to me at least, but this Company was just not the 'Day Spa and Meditation' type.

After enough moaning and groaning about the tunes, good ole reliable Bofur took matters into his own hands. Off and away he went, up onto the table, singing about an Inn that had excellent beer.

And off and away _I_ went, unable to stomach their optimism and their smiles and their… and their… just everything!

As sneakily as I could, I rose from my cushion at the table and crept off past a few of the Elves, who gave me curious glances, but said nothing. I was already trying to navigate the halls with vision blurred by tears, and I didn't want anyone to ask questions, so I veered off quickly to an empty balcony I spotted on my way to dinner. It was getting dark, but I saw no sense in getting a light when I was trying to be discreet.

Of course, I hadn't been quite discreet enough.

I was crying when Thorin found me, only able to stop for a moment as he sat down beside me and asked what happened, then I was crying all over again when he corrected that he wasn't asking for how the map got destroyed, as I had assumed. He was asking about _me_. What happened to _me_.

Exiled Dwarf King, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, rubbed my back as I sobbed. It was a combination of his caring and simply remembering what happened that triggered the tears. The bad thing was, I actually liked having him this close. It didn't make me nervous, like our Q&A sessions, because this wasn't Q&A. This was me freaking out and him being there. I didn't want him to stop, and immediately wanted the warmth of his hand returned when he ceased contact.

Lo and behold, the very reason I was trying to get away from everyone, had found me. Not only did he find me, no, of course not. He came and he _comforted me_. Of _course_ he decides to be selfless and kind to me after I've chosen to ditch the mission, after I realized I would have to leave him and his golden-fucking-hearted nephews to their fate.

In the short time we'd known each other, Thorin had never been truly _mean_ to me. As a generally severe person, it should have been easy for him to be annoyed by my constant hesitance and fumbling. He was impatient at times when it came to the quest and the map, especially at the beginning of things, but never downright mean, even bothering to curb his intimidation tactics so as not to scare me. In fact, he was only getting more used to my presence, becoming more certain that I was harmless, and becoming nicer to me because of it. I didn't want him to be nice. I _liked_ nice. I didn't want to like Thorin at all! In any capacity! I already liked his unyielding morals and his courage. I already liked his determination and his concrete resilience, so unlike myself. I already liked his rumbling voice and, obviously, his blinding good looks.

How dare Thorin Oakenshield be _nice_ on top of all that _?_

How dare he, when I was looking for every excuse to stay in Rivendell and be a coward? I _wanted_ him to be abrasive for five seconds, to give me any reason not to stick myself in front of a Warg's jaws again, but no. Of course not. That would have been too easy.

Thorin was patient, and told me not to apologize for crying. (The stabbing guilt arose.) He asked me carefully to make sure I hadn't been molested. (The guilt stabbed a little harder.) He apologized for not coming to my aid sooner, when I was still floored that they had risked their lives to get me back at all. (I was utterly impaled by guilt at this point, let's be honest.) With no idea that the map had been all but incinerated, they had genuinely just come to rescue me, myself, because they were good people who cared whether this weirdo lived or died.

Then my sleeve slipped, drawing Thorin's eyes to his grandfather's map, and he tried to pretend he wasn't curious. Obviously he had a right to be interested, and I told him as much, realizing that I was – in fact – the last entire copy of that stupid map. The remainder of the hope for this quest was hitching a ride on my arm, and I knew Thorin wanted to see it, even if he was trying to be polite about it. So I let him.

Remaining calm just then, as I allowed him to look over my tattoo and felt his fingers brush against my skin, was a proud moment for me. I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the night air, thankful that the candelabra's light wasn't quite enough to show my blush. Somehow, despite my inner turmoil at simply being near this Dwarf, my 'hot guy proximity alert' was still running at full capacity. Go figure.

I knew he would see the Moon Runes, but I also knew he was meant to discover them that night anyway. Really, I wasn't changing much by letting the information go ahead of schedule by a few hours, however, I wasn't certain how Lord Elrond's role was tied to everything. Would the quest be altered if Elrond didn't see the runes? Would the White Council still meet regardless? Or did Galadriel show up due to telepathic information from Elrond about Thorin's map and thus, Thorin's mission? Or did she just see it in her fancy psychic bird bath?

It was a lot to worry about.

Even if I wasn't continuing on with the Company, the entirety of Middle Earth still depended on the Quest for Erebor. If I couldn't go home, God forbid, then I was stuck with whatever this world would become, and I preferred if it wasn't a post-apocalyptic wasteland. It was a selfish thought process, but I wasn't thinking straight. I had just experienced some shit that day, and I was scared, growing more depressed with my position by the minute.

I didn't have too much time to think on this though, as I tried to explain about the Moon Runes to Thorin, forgetting that my hand was holding up the front of my dress when I started to sign. Flashing my corset to a King wasn't exactly on the top of my To-Do list, an agonizing reminder fluttering through my head that he had seen most of my torso before anyway.

Ever the well-timed interruption, Gandalf found us sitting on that balcony, me with the top half of my dress still in a questionable arrangement and embarrassment rolling off in tidal waves. Thorin was too focused on the discovery of the runes to dwell on the potentially inappropriate situation – thank all that is holy – and brought up the hidden runes with the Wizard.

Thorin was obviously not happy that Elrond was already made aware of the map's existence. The choice to share that information about his personal quest was taken out of his hands, and I could see why that would be irksome, but it needed to happen. Were it not for Gandalf divulging news of the map before permission was granted, I wasn't sure we could have convinced Thorin to let Elrond have a look. I had the knowledge already, so why let an Elf in on this, was probably his thought process.

What I told Thorin about the wording, about how important it was to get it just right, was true. However, it wasn't 100% accurate to say I was uncertain about my memory; I had that shit memorized impeccably. It was tattooed on my arm, for Pete's sake, different language or no!

Since I had sworn truthfulness, I felt bad for the grey area I took advantage of, but I really, honestly _didn't_ want to sign it wrong. Just because my memory was fine didn't mean my Iglishmêk was perfect just yet. I could absolutely see myself accidentally signing 'flamingo' instead of 'thrush'... Somehow.

I met Thorin's eyes on that balcony, pleading with him, and regardless of what finally tipped the scales, he agreed.

"So be it," Thorin finally said, still not happy, but going with it.

I felt my shoulders relax, not bothering to readjust my sleeves this time when they slipped down.

"Very good," said Gandalf, though I think it was more to himself than to us, and turned to exit the terrace. "If that's all sorted, Lord Elrond is waiting for us."

Thorin tilted his head for me to follow our companion first before trailing after as well, a small show of his manners that made me want to crawl under a rock. _Stop being nice!_

We passed through the same hallways I had come from on my escape from dinner, and I heard a few Company members somewhere, their laughter echoing down one of the lit corridors. A little further down, we spotted Balin investigating some bookshelves with Ori and Bilbo. Thorin stopped momentarily to inform them of what was about to go down, wanting Balin to be present for the whole thing, and Ori scuttled off, probably to go tell his brothers the interesting development. Balin wasn't super happy about Thorin's choice to show the Elf, but only voiced his doubt once before he knew the decision was already set. Meanwhile, Bilbo stayed put while awkwardly shuffling his hairy feet, until Gandalf noticed.

"Come, Bilbo. As our official Burglar, you will need this information as well," he said without pause.

Thorin's brows lowered more than they already were, but instead of voicing any displeasure, he continued on and ignored the addition.

I rolled my eyes and waited for the Hobbit, who spotted my display, and he gave me a tight-lipped smile before walking after the others. Maybe I should get pointers from Bilbo on how to get Thorin to be rude, and then I really _would_ have an excuse to stay in Rivendell.

We entered a familiar room, though I hadn't actually been in it since we arrived, leaving me to assume I remembered it from the movie. The ceiling was relatively high, with pillars spaced intermediately around a low platform with steps leading up to it. The platform itself was actually another large balcony, I realized, noticing the moon was bright enough to extend its light all the way in our building, but that wasn't where we headed.

The other half of the room consisted of archways holding up a second floor, railings visible from our vantage point, and Lord Elrond was waiting near one of these archways. There were a few desks with books lying open on them, some oil lamps for each one, and a few candelabras stationed around, making me wonder if this wasn't a study of some kind.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind," Elrond said, glancing between Gandalf and Thorin, seeming to understand there was some previous disagreement.

"Of course not," replied Gandalf as he gave a tense smile, trying to adjust the mood back to casual. "Though now that we're here, I feel we should tell you the map is not of the, ah… _traditional_ variety. The original was rendered useless during our run-in with the Men I spoke of, but fortunately, we had another copy, so to speak."

At this, my friends' eyes turned to me, causing Elrond to focus on me as well.

I had not bothered to readjust the sleeves of my dress, so the Lonely Mountain poking out on my shoulder, just above the blue fabric, was a giveaway for anyone with eyes. Of course, Elrond was also an Elf with sharp vision, and he was not exactly a dummy either. Awkwardly, I stepped forward, slipping my arm back out of my sleeve, very careful not to let my dress fall down again. I don't think I could have handled the extra embarrassment that night.

Elrond's expression became a cross of confusion and intrigue as I shifted my arm around slightly, allowing him a better look at all angles. He wasn't reading anything yet, simply taking in this anomaly for the moment, eventually pausing to glance back over to Thorin, then Gandalf, with a look of concern.

"Erebor?" Elrond questioned, disapproving already. "What is your… _interest_ in this map?"

Thorin opened his mouth the tiniest bit to answer or possibly tell him it wasn't his business, but Gandalf got there first. "It's mainly academic," the Wizard said, glancing at the Dwarf King with a silent plea to be quiet, before looking back to Elrond. "They simply wish to know the translation for archival purposes. To keep an important hold on their history, as it were."

"These runes _are_ indeed ancient Dwarvish," started Elrond after some thought, "But might I ask why this clearly Dwarven map is held by a woman of Men?"

Gandalf was quick to respond with a question instead of an actual answer, though I wasn't sure if even _he_ really knew why it was tattooed on me. "Quite strange, is it not?" he said. "It is in my opinion, at least, but regardless of oddity, you are the only one we know of who can read it. Miss Hollander is having trouble remembering the exact words, and we would prefer an accurate reading."

 _Smooth dodging there, G._ I waited tensely, taking a peek over to Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo. Thorin looked like he wanted to speak very badly, but understood that Gandalf was pretty skilled at weaving words in a way that would get them what they needed. Balin seemed to be in the same boat, and poor Bilbo just looked perpetually concerned.

Like I said, Lord Elrond was not exactly a dummy, and he could tell the question was evaded all together, but by the grace of the Valar, he let it slide. In place of pursuing that topic, he stepped closer to me. "If I may?" he asked, with his hands held in a patient, hovering fashion, similar to what Thorin had done.

I shrugged, holding my arm up more. There was still a significant height difference, despite my best efforts, forcing Elrond to bend slightly. It was awkward, and I was nervous because of who it was, but it wasn't the same nervousness that came with Thorin's touch. This felt more clinical, like a visit to the doctor. Not that Elrond wasn't attractive or anything. Immortal DILF just wasn't my cup of tea at the moment.

"Curious," Elrond murmured, turning to the others. "If I could see what remains of the original as well?"

There was no point in saying no, Thorin knew, since the whole map was already exposed, though he was still a bit defensive of the small surviving piece. With a sigh through his nose – like sharing this much with an Elf was physically painful to him – he pulled out the scrap of paper and handed it over.

Elrond gave a nod of courtesy (which was infinitesimally returned by the other party), unfolding the sheet to its triangular best. He looked it over as he took a few thoughtful steps towards the platform, into the light of the moon.

I shifted slightly, trying to see what could possibly be showing with half the map gone, but then a tiny, faint shimmer on the edge of the paper caught my attention. My brows drew together as I tiptoed slightly to get a better view, realizing with surprise that there had been one, singular rune that survived the fire. It was so weak in the dim moonlight that if you weren't looking for it, you would undoubtedly miss it, but it was there, nestled next to the charred edge.

Elrond breathed some words in Elvish, glancing back to my arm as Gandalf quietly confirmed, "Moon Runes. Of course."

The two Dwarves and our Hobbit waited for elaboration on this.

"Were these normal circumstances, Moon Runes could only be read by the light of a moon the same shape and season as the day on which they were written," Elrond explained, staring at me with interest. "Lady Hollander has managed to inscribe these hidden runes on her arm, with white ink, leaving them visible to any regardless of the moon's phase."

I became mildly uncomfortable. When you say it like _that_ , it sounds like I'm just waving Ereborian secrets around for all to see.

Thorin was obviously of this mindset, glancing over to meet my gaze with a slight frown. I twitched my lips in the weakest of split-second smiles, and his chin inclined slightly, telling me this was definitely going to be brought up later.

Elrond continued though, appearing almost amused at the coincidence as he said, "These runes were written on a midsummer's eve, by the light of a crescent moon nearly 200 years ago. It seems you were _meant_ to come to Rivendell with or without the original map, Thorin Oakenshield, for the very same moon shines upon us tonight."

Bilbo stared out the large archway of the balcony, to the moon, then turned to glance back and forth between Thorin and Balin, who were surprised at the news. There was a pause as they soaked in this clear demonstration of fate, with Thorin meeting my eyes again momentarily and noting my lack of surprise. Had I been firing on all cylinders, I would have pretended to be shocked, or raised my eyebrows at the very least.

Returning from the moonlit half of the room, Elrond passed the map fragment back to Thorin and came over to me once again. I raised my arm and tilted it accordingly one more time, allowing him to read the passage in white letters that all were waiting for.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

A pause radiated through the room as Elrond's reading soaked in.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked, first to break the silence.

Gandalf responded, saying, "It is the start of the Dwarves' New Year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky, together."

I glanced over, noticing the sudden tension in Thorin's stance as he paced, one hand at his chin and the other supporting that arm's elbow. The whole thing was bizarre, as once again dialogues were playing out in places they weren't originally meant to.

"This is ill news," Thorin said thoughtfully, growing concerned for their quest. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."

"We still have time," Balin spoke up.

"Time? For what?" Bilbo questioned, not super clear on things just yet.

"To find the entrance," answered Balin, stepping forward and closer to Thorin, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time; then – and only _then_ – can the door be opened."

"So this is your purpose? To enter the mountain?" asked Elrond with a certain amount of dissatisfaction.

Thorin dropped his arms, becoming defensive. "What of it?"

Elrond didn't rise to argue his case with the Dwarf King, simply stating in a low tone, "There are some who would not deem it wise."

"What do you mean?" Gandalf interceded with a small frown.

Elrond began to walk, the Wizard following after him, as he said sternly, "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth." Then they were gone down the hallway and out of sight.

Now irritated that Elrond knew of their plan, Thorin tucked away the small map segment and looked to me. "Durin's Day?" he asked, as though he still didn't quite trust Elrond's reading.

I nodded the tiniest of nods.

He exhaled heavily, turning his gaze to Balin.

The older Dwarf sighed as well, giving a nod of certainty. "We have time."

* * *

As soon as the rune debacle was over, and Thorin and Balin began conversing more thoroughly about their plans, I bid them an awkward goodnight right after Bilbo did and made for the spare room the Elves had leant me. I wasn't sure if I was actually meant to sleep in there and away from the guys for the sake of propriety, or if I was just given use of it to change clothes and bathe, but either way, I was exhausted and needed to think things over in solitude.

Thorin and his Company were finally aware of the deadline – Durin's Day. They would first take their short rest in Rivendell for a few days, though I wasn't certain how many, and then they would be gone. In the book, they stayed an entire two weeks, and in the movie, it seemed like barely two days. Then again, a lot of things in the movie were condensed, time-wise, so I couldn't really be sure of anything at this point.

It hardly mattered how long they stayed, I realized as I reached the guest room. I wasn't even going with them, was I? The Valar had made a mistake, yeah?

Yeah.

The two sconces on either side of the room were lit, and I silently thanked Nadri or Lieren or whoever came in here earlier to do that. Moonlight was great and all, but I wasn't an owl. By the light of the fire, I was able to find my newly laundered clothes folded in a neat pile on the bed. I contorted myself out of the Elvish dress, and unlaced the insanity that was the corset, taking a quick look over my stack of clothing. Most of the blood stains were gone, leaving only the worst as vague dark blotches that could have been mistaken for simple travel stains (of which there were plenty of anyway), with my black hoodie and maroon shirt mostly unaffected, thankfully, and my underwear in a similar state.

I put on my t-shirt, but held off on the undies, keeping the cotton ones I had been loaned for now. They weren't terribly uncomfortable, just odd and different. (You know how trying new underwear is.) I didn't bother with my bra either, since I'd had to wear the thing for a month straight, and frankly, it looked like it was on its last legs.

After slipping my sweats back on and carefully placing the dress and corset on the table, I stared at the sconces for a minute before deciding to leave them be. I wasn't even sure if I could blow them out, to be honest, since they were a.) too high up, and b.) a lot bigger than a teeny candle.

This was probably a good idea on my part, considering how many times I woke up that night.

I was so, _so_ fucking tired, yet it felt like sleep only came for minutes at a time. The bed was comfortable, the sheets fluffy, and it was like a grand hotel compared to sleeping on the ground, but between my restless thoughts and my detailed nightmares – because oh, yes, there were certainly nightmares – I couldn't stay asleep.

The majority of the nightmares were exactly what I thought they would be; Jean hovering over me with that knife at my throat, the image melding into Gavin slipping his hand up my shirt, followed by, of course, the Warg. The enormous Warg, looking down, baring its fangs… Most of the time, these nightmares didn't end with Kili's arrow landing in the nick of time or with Thorin saying my name to snap me out of my stupor. No. They mostly ended quite poorly, causing me to wake in a sweat and stare at the sconces I had left flickering.

That wasn't even the worst of it. The worst had to be the nightmares that came with my decision to jump ship and abandon this insanity that I was never meant to be a part of. When I wasn't stuck in a bad dream about my kidnapping, I was stuck with images of Fili falling to his death. Of Kili, impaled so soon after. Of Thorin, facing down his mortal enemy on a frozen river…

Nightmares or no nightmares, I still didn't believe I was the right person for this job. I was _not_ going all the way to Erebor only to watch them die anyway, because Yavanna stuck their fate in my useless hands.

It wasn't even light outside when I decided to give up on sleep, wiping half-dried tears off my face for what felt like the hundredth time. There were birds making a racket in the gardens, but the sun had yet to rise completely, and the sky was still a dim grey hue. I would have given my left kidney for some overpowered Starbucks right then.

Putting on my bra and the silky slippers, I glanced at the mirror with a cringe and left the room for the time being. I stopped off at the bathroom, dealing with my morning routine and taking extra care to wash my face, even though my eyes were still puffy as hell.

I assumed breakfast would be in the same area as dinner was the night before, and I was right, but I figured it was too early for anyone to be out and about. This was not the case.

"Goodmorning," greeted Balin warmly from his seat at the table. Beside him, Dwalin was making a face at a chunk of cantaloupe he was holding, stopping for a second to nod my way.

The dining setup was left out for us, though it was significantly cleaner than the last time I saw it, with the vegetables and lettuce no longer strewn about, and the tables set to rights. New food was out, consisting more of fruits and bread than the evening selection had been, and thankfully the absurdly strong wine had been replaced with milk and water.

The Elves themselves weren't congregated like they had been the night before. I had only spotted two or three on my way to the balcony, and there were none that I could see around the dining area.

I meandered over to Balin and Dwalin, only partially happy to see the familiar faces. Regardless of the rain cloud above my head, I gave them a small smile as a return greeting and sat down two seats away, on the other side of the table.

There was a long silence where nothing was said, only the birds and the nearby waterfalls making any noise. Thought I heard a flute somewhere as well. I wasn't looking their way, focusing instead on the food that I probably wasn't going to finish.

Balin paused as he was about to take another bite, lowering his hand to ask me softly, "Rough night, lass?"

I tried to give a crooked smile as I slowly signed, _'How can you tell?'_

Dwalin scoffed through his nose with a smirk, giving a slight shake of his head as he went back to his food.

His brother only glanced at the reaction, turning back to me with a kind stare. "We don't expect you to be completely unshaken after what happened," he said, still relatively quiet. "We're just glad to see you safe."

 _Please don't make me emotional right now, Balin,_ I begged internally. It was too early and I was too tired. I was liable to cry at the drop of a hat, so any talk of the Company worrying over my safety yesterday was definitely off the table. I gave a smile that was part 'thanks' and part 'not right now, please'.

Balin got what I was saying, as he always did, replying with a short nod, and we ate in peace for a bit.

I only say a bit, because the rest of the Dwarves began waking up soon after, when the sky began to lighten further and the activity around Rivendell increased. Oín and Gloín joined us, sitting in the two empty seats to my right.

We were pretty much finished eating by the time they came around. As they dined, Balin scooted down a seat to work with me again to better my Iglishmek and, though he never stated as much, to get my mind off of things. There were a few exchanges of boring sentences, and some previous corrections that had completely slipped my mind in the midst of the drama.

During some grammar adjustments, the Ur family arrived, with Bofur managing to get a real smile out of me with his jovial, "Goodmornin'!"

Of course, that smile got doused in some cold water when Fili and Kili came bouncing in, taking seats beside me and Balin.

"How are you doing this morning, Jenna?" asked Fili as he began filling up his plate, showing less hesitance with the fruit than some of the others.

I shrugged, pretending to focus really hard on a strawberry I just picked up, even though I was clearly through eating.

"You look more comfortable, at least," Kili supplied from beside me, trying his best to be casual and get me out of my funk.

It sort of worked, as I raised an eyebrow, finally lifting my eyes enough to meet his.

"Wearing your own clothes again, I mean. You look more comfortable," he explained, offering me a dish. "Blackberries?"

I shook my head, awkwardly putting the strawberry back, and said, _'I am full. Thank you.'_

Kili stared at my hands momentarily, and I realized my mistake, opening my mouth to sound the words instead. He stopped me though, putting a hand up slightly.

"No, wait, I've got it. Maybe. Part of it – you said 'thank you', I believe..?" he trailed off, glancing at Balin like he was going to get in trouble if it was wrong.

The old Dwarf smiled a bit. "Yes, that was part of it. We were actually in the middle of another lesson, if you'd care to join?"

"That might be a good idea," Kili murmured, giving me a smile of embarrassment.

The smile was borderline painful. We started signing again, with Balin showing us both different combinations and shortcuts. A few small sentences were exchanged before I realized I wasn't soaking anything in, only thinking about the two princes at our table and the images from my nightmares. Oh god, was I going to throw up? I felt like I was going to throw up.

"…Jenna?" Kili addressed when I'd stopped signing back to him, giving a concerned look that caused a few others to pause, too.

I couldn't find it in myself to respond, standing from the table and nearly tripping over the round cushion as I hurried away. Everything was clammy and gross and I couldn't breathe. I almost ran smack into Nori as I turned a corner, only pausing in my escape long enough for him to steady me with one hand on my shoulder.

"Woah there," he chuckled, amusement fading when he got a better look at me, letting his hand fall. "You alright?"

I shook my head, moving on quickly and heading for that stupid guest room where I was going to lock myself up and never come out.

 _No, Nori, I am most certainly_ not _alright._

I wasn't part of Bilbo's great adventure, I wasn't meant to be in this fantasy world, and I sure as hell wasn't going on a quest to reclaim a mountain from a fire-breathing dragon while being chased by Wargs and Orcs and Elves and giant Spiders, just to save these three dorks who by all means shouldn't exist. I mean, I definitely, certainly, _absolutely_ wasn't...

…was I?

* * *

 _ **Things are looking a bit dismal, but they won't stay that way forever, guys. ;)**_

 _ **Fudging it a bit with the moon rune placement on the map, since they were actually a bit lower, but I think we'll survive. Not the only thing I've fudged, but my lips are sealed. XD**_

 _ **(Fun Fact: Nadri is named after a brand of jewelry we sell at my job. lmao just like Hollander is a brand of pillow.)**_

 _ **Anyway, thank you guys for being so patient and for leaving all these fantastic reviews. Like, you don't even know how many times I go back and read over those things and try to figure out how to respond, and then just wind up procrastinating the response until it's time for an update, and by then I'm just like, "they'd probably rather have a chapter than a message." lol I'll try not to procrastinate this time, and (hopefully) it won't take me another two months to get the next chapter out.**_

 _ **Until next time! xoxo**_


	20. The Bounce

_**Hello again! Believe it or not, tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of when I uploaded the first chapter of The Loudest Silence! Crazy, right? I would wait and upload it then, but A) it will be Mother's Day, and B) I'll likely be busy all day anyway. LoL it's been a year and they've only just reached Rivendell… Oooh boy.**_

 _ **Regardless! The anniversary is made even more fantastic by the fact that, for my birthday, the continuously-amazing Durinsdottir made FANARTS FOR TLS! Fanarts! As in multiple! It still blows my mind when I look at them, and I've been staring non-stop, I swear. (For your convenience, I will be adding that link in my profile as well.)**_

 _ **Anyways. Your patience has paid off. Here it goes! :)**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty**

* * *

For the first few hours of self-induced isolation, I tried to read. While an entertaining book, _The Last Unicorn_ just wasn't enough to keep away my thoughts, and I wound up re-reading the same lines over and over. With a certain amount of frustration, I gave up on that and curled up in the bed sheets, doing absolutely jack shit for quite a while, as one is want to do when in a funk.

I eventually got up and wandered around the room, partially pacing, partially inspecting decorations. After meandering for a moment, I went over to my window and took a look out over the grounds. Like I mentioned, there was no way for anyone to see up into my room with the level it was on and the way it was positioned, but the view was still quite nice. I could see several pathways winding through trees and some gazebo-looking structures, and quite a ways away there was a garden of some kind. Though it was lined with trees, and I couldn't really discern anything through the branches, I could make out what looked like benches. I made a mental note to see about visiting the odd garden if I could, turning to glance at other scenery.

While doing this, I absentmindedly reached up to find my whistle, forgetting for a panicky moment that I had put it in my backpack before bathing yesterday. The small fright subsided as I walked over and pulled it from my bag, replacing it around my neck and holding it to my chest with relief. Had I left it in my hoodie, I wasn't sure if it would have been damaged by being washed, but I was glad I didn't have to find out.

Were it not for Bifur's clever gift, would they have found me in time? Mere seconds was all it would have taken...

I forced my mind to blank out and not think about that. Sucking in a deep breath, I began pacing again, fiddling with the whistle, tracing the Khuzdul runes that spelled out _Birâthûna_ with my thumbs. _Girl of the map._ Hah. That title was wasted on me. I was the one who got the map toasted in the first place.

Noon rolled around, and when I still didn't come out of hiding for lunch, I received a knock on the door.

I was sitting on the bed when they visited, giving a slight jump at the sound. Ugh, I was still so tense... With a scowl, I watched the closed entry way and waited.

"Jenna?" came Kili's familiar voice, and then a long pause.

Was he waiting for me to answer back or something? Because, I mean…

Apparently they were having the same thoughts, as there was a whispering that I couldn't quite make out, followed up by Fili's voice, saying, "If you're taking a nap, we apologize. Er… but if you're not, perhaps…"

"Uh, clap twice if you can hear us!" Kili suggested, sounding a bit too hopeful that I would reply.

I stared at the door in contemplation for a moment, finally giving in and clapping twice.

There was an excited shuffling, and the dull sound of cloth as if someone was whopped on the shoulder.

"Lunch has been served," Fili said. "The Elves mentioned you were still in your room, so we came to see if you were hungry."

"It's the same as before – fruits and vegetables and the like – but it's better than nothing, we suppose," Kili added casually, like he hadn't been eagerly snorfing down some vegetarian fare at breakfast. Were Dwarves afraid that liking healthy food would make them less intimidating or something?

While I knew I should be hungry, food just sounded unappealing at the moment. My stomach hadn't properly settled since my nausea at breakfast, and just the sound of the princes' voices had sent it roiling with guilt again, so lunch was probably a bad idea.

I stood from the bed and waited a moment, unsure of how to answer without opening the door.

"We understand if… maybe you need more time," assured Fili after a long interval of nothing.

There was a forced chuckle from Kili, as he added, "Can't say I would come out for just a salad either. Though, later this evening, we were planning on cooking up some sausages. They won't keep for much longer, so if you'd like to join us then, instead…"

The offer hung in the air, unanswered, and I felt the opportunity slip away.

An almost imperceptible, "C'mon, Kee," was followed by one pair of footsteps slowly meandering down the hall. A few seconds later, there was the soft slide of a hand falling from the door, and the other feet taking a few steps, hesitantly, before continuing onward with the first.

I blinked rapidly as my eyes watered, and I quickly stared at the ceiling as I ran a hand through my hair.

 _I'm sorry, you guys._

* * *

"Jenna?"

Abruptly, I was pulled from the light sleep I had fallen into as a few knocks sounded at the door again. Sitting on the floor with my back against the end of the bed, _The Last Unicorn_ had slipped from my hands and was lying face down between my legs. There was a horrible crick in my neck as I looked around briefly, realizing the sun had gone down, and the two sconces shone just as persistent as before.

"Just came to check on you, see if ye might be wanting supper, since the lads mentioned ye weren't feeling up to lunch and all…" came the easily recognizable voice of Bofur. "We've got sausages cookin' this time though! Ought to be a wee bit better than a pile o' lettuce trying to call itself a meal, aye? Bombur's fixing them up as we speak. Or rather, as _I_ speak."

The corner of my lip twitched at his joke, despite my half asleep state. I stretched painfully, then picked up my book and stood, setting it on the bed as I wondered if I would be able to handle seeing everyone quite yet. My previous immunity to hunger was wearing off, but was food worth freaking out again?

"Not even sure if ye've heard anything I've said, so I might actually be talkin' to myself over here, but we'd love to have ya join us for a while," Bofur continued.

I took a few steps towards the door, pausing midway as I brushed off the remnants of my dozing. More awake (though still quite tired), I could feel the return of that tightness in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Well, okay, it might have had a little bit to do with hunger, considering I had barely eaten in the past two days, but this dread far outweighed the draw of food. The idea of coming to dinner, only to flee when the reality once again overwhelmed me, was not super appealing.

"It's not a fancy get-together or nothin'," he said, still without any sign that I was actually awake, "So ye don't have to wear that Elvish garb again if ye don't want. In fact, it's so relaxed that most o'the Company's in their unders! Though, now that I think of it… that little detail might not be a winner."

Bofur would probably keep going until I gave some indication of yes or no, so I took the last couple of steps across the room as he began talking about their campfire they were cooking the sausages over.

As I opened the door a smidgen, I saw the Dwarf standing expectantly in the hallway as he spoke, stopping midsentence when I showed up.

"Why, hello there! Long time no see," Bofur said while smiling. "Wasn't sure if ye were asleep already or maybe out for a walk. Nobody's seen hide nor hair of ye since breakfast, so we all just assumed you were still in here resting up."

I nodded. _'Still here. Still not feeling… the best,'_ I signed listlessly through the partially open door, dropping my gaze a bit to stare at one of his braids.

"Ah. I'm sorry about that, lass," he reassured, tone softening as he took in my demeanor. "I figure it can't be easy for you right now."

There was a long pause, with me continuing to avoid eye contact as he went on.

"For what ye went through... I know there's no amount of apologizin' that can make it so as nothing happened, but I am sorry for that as well. Sorry I couldn't stop 'em from taking you. Downright slimy bastards, using a little thing like you as hostage – riles me all over again just thinkin' about it," he forced himself to break off before he could begin ranting.

A frown had crept up on my face at his apology, and I found myself shaking my head and saying, _'Not your fault they take me. Do not apologize.'_

"Aye, I know, I know. Just wish there was more I could've done," Bofur gave in, a small smile coming back to him finally. "Dwarves don't take too kindly to their friend bein' kidnapped, if ye can believe it."

I nodded slightly, my lips turning upwards a bit at 'friend'.

A sigh escaped Bofur, then he continued with, "Anyway – dinner! Ye know how our crew puts away food, so if you're plannin' on having some…?"

My slowly lifting mood rolled away like a wobbly tire from a cartoon car crash at the thought of socializing. Like, actual socializing, possibly with Durins, and not just singular Bofur here who was a living embodiment of charisma and comfort.

Bofur watched as my expression changed unintentionally, and he pursed his lips for a second, seeming to realize my decision hadn't changed. "That's alright then. Ye don't have to if you don't want," he said. Adding as an afterthought, "Though, if I brought you a plate, would ye try to get a little bit of food down? The hunger's only gonna make ye feel worse, lass."

I thought about it for a second before deciding that was probably the best idea, so I gave a nod, grateful for his offer.

In the end, I was only able to eat half the plate Bofur brought back before he skedaddled to rejoin the others – though, in my defense, it was a veritable mountain of food. Whether on accident or on purpose, I think he was trying to get me to compensate for the meals I hadn't had, but that just wasn't how it worked. Either way, the sentiment was still appreciated, and I was able to sate my tentative hunger with sausages, potatoes, carrots, and various other nibbles he thought I might like.

My fifteen some-odd minutes of dozing on the floor was probably the longest consecutive amount of time sleeping that I'd gone without a nightmare since the kidnapping, giving me enough energy to do… Well, not a whole lot, but my brain was temporarily functioning. I knew that wouldn't last long, though, and decided to think on a plan of some kind if I wasn't going with the Company.

From my cross-legged seat on the bed, I leaned over, setting my partially devoured plate on one of the nightstands, and wondered briefly how long I could stay in Rivendell before they got tired of me. Maybe I could find a job here, do dishes or something, earn my keep. It was funny trying to imagine these Elves doing dishes anyway, but _someone_ had to be doing them, and it wasn't like they had connections to the House Elves of Hogwarts. Ha, no, if Dobby was here, I'd just get him to apparate my ass out of this mess so I could go home and be depressed in peace. Hang out with Netflix instead of the ever-thrilling Window-flix.

It wouldn't be a good idea to stay in Rivendell anyway though, I realized with a grimace. Bilbo would be coming back through here on his way home, after having experienced the horror of the final battle and witnessing the deaths of his friends – deaths that I would have known were going to happen. I couldn't face the Hobbit after that, or risk running into him. Even if he never found out about my knowledge, the guilt alone would be… a tad crushing. This also meant I couldn't go live in Hobbiton, as fun as that sounded, and I sure as fuck didn't want to go live in Bree, even with Gavin and Jean out of the picture. What if someone recognized me as that weird girl they were chasing through town?

No, if there was any possible way for me to go home, that would be a much better idea, since I wasn't even supposed to be in Middle Earth and there had obviously been a huge mistake. The question was, how?

I didn't figure Gandalf would be willing to help me chicken out of an apparent 'choice' made by the Valar, or give me any ideas on how to do so, but who else could I go to? What tier of magical skill did you have to be on for 'speaking to the deities' to be an option? I seriously doubted I could just go mentally yell at a flower until Yavanna materialized before me.

Though, given my location and timing, perhaps there was another I could talk to. Maybe I could get _her_ to convince Yavanna to send me back, or maybe even do it herself, authority level depending. I mean, if anyone was omniscient enough to see what a terrible decision had been made, and to immediately know the truth of the situation, it was Galadriel.

Right?

Big fat problem though – I wasn't entirely sure when Galadriel would even show up. All I knew was that, according to the movie, the White Council would meet one night and the Dwarves would sneak out at the butt-crack of dawn so the Elves can't stop them. However, taking the extended edition of the film into account, I was still stuck on the same question as before; on what exact _day_ was the Company leaving?

I huffed, standing from the bed to put on my silky slippers. _Damn overly-condensed timelines!_

With nothing else for it, I decided to go for a walk, hoping that luck or fate or whatever was on my side, and maybe I could run into the Lady of Lórien. Or, better still, maybe she would have a vision about this traumatized potato child and go ahead and come over. Surely to God she would be able to see what a disaster this was? That I could very easily send Middle Earth spiraling into a cataclysmic event with just one wrong move? How much I needed to be _anywhere_ but here?

While Rivendell was peaceful during the daytime, it was absolutely dead at night. It was like when you check into a nice hotel really late in the evening, and the only sound is coming from their decorative water fountain and that one person at the snack machine. Except the fountain was a waterfall, and the snack machine guest was a bundle of loud Dwarves laughing and telling stories around a campfire some several buildings away.

I had no desire to run into the Company, so I found myself wandering down the airy walkways in the opposite direction, my route lit via scattered candelabras and moonlight. Where there weren't candles, there were windows, but the temperature seemed to be pretty comfortable, if a bit on the brisk side. I was glad it wasn't any cooler, seeing as how I was just wandering around in my t-shirt and sweats, and didn't really feel like going back for my hoodie or cloak.

A number of halls and a few small staircases away, I discovered an exit from the building that led to a long, rectangular yard of sorts. There were a total of seven stone benches lining the whole thing, three on each side and one at the end, and ornamental statues of graceful figures in between them. The whole thing was surrounded by some decent sized trees, though I didn't know what kind. I wasn't a girl scout.

After a few minutes, I realized it was the garden I had seen earlier, from my room. I made my way to the very last bench at the end of the yard and peeked up, past the trees, recognizing my window some distance away and confirming my suspicions.

All in all, it felt cozy and relatively secluded, lit by two sconces on either side of the doorway I came from, plus the obvious moon. Though, I couldn't be 100% sure that I wasn't intruding on someone's private garden. Practicality said they wouldn't place it so close to the guest quarters if they didn't want people visiting, but I was not familiar with the intricacies of Elven etiquette.

I sighed a bit as I plopped down on the stone bench. _Now what?_

My genius idea worked about as well as I thought it would – which was to say, not at all. I chilled there for a while, unconsciously messing with the drawstrings of my sweatpants as I stared at the stars, hoping something would happen. This bench was the only one not covered by a tree, so you could see every twinkling dot up there. It really was quite beautiful, but maybe that's because I still wasn't used to it. Stars were so much harder to see back in my home city, and despite all our days of camping, they were just as pretty to me as they were on day one. Er… well, day two then, considering day one was not exactly great for stargazing.

I'm not sure how long I waited for some supernatural entity to show up, basically begging for a sign that any of them were listening to my silent pleas. Yavanna was who I tried first, for a long while. I made an effort to stay polite, but eventually it just dissolved into rambling. _You guys know this was a bad idea, so send me back. Send me back home. I'm the wrong one for this job. Please send me back, Yavanna,_ I thought desperately, trying to project my non-existent words into space like a loon. It felt almost like praying. My Aunt had never been really religious, though she did have her own beliefs about the world and spirituality, and she's the one who basically raised me, so that had kind of rubbed off. Praying was a foreign feeling, but like… I knew Yavanna was out there! I knew the Valar were awake and kicking, corporeal or not! I freakin' met one of them!

I rubbed my eyes when the stars became blurry, aggravation rising at my inability to keep from crying for five seconds. Scowling at the sky, I tried again with a different approach, much too irritated with Yavanna to keep calling for something that wasn't happening.

 _Fine. Galadriel... Uh,_ Lady _Galadriel… I don't even know if you have that kind of influence, or if you can even hear me, but I know you're crazy powerful. I'm not strong enough for this. I'm not brave. I'm scared. I almost died. Maybe I'll have to talk to you when you get here in person, maybe you can just like… hear me now. Either way. I need to go home. I'll mess everything up if I stay here. Please, please, please, Lady Galadriel…_

 _Pretty please with sugar on top?_

* * *

I nodded off several times, lying on the bench and staring at the stars to distract myself, unable to find any of the constellations I knew from home. My mental pleading would begin anew each time I was awoken by a nightmare, but the shiny, distant specks were oddly calming, and I couldn't find it in myself to go back inside until the sky was a deep blue and the birds had already begun their twittering.

With a slightly sore throat, from the combination of crying so much lately and trying to sleep on a stone bench with no blanket or coat (genius), I meandered back to my room, exhausted. If I got sick, then I _definitely_ wasn't going on no jolly quest, my own choice be damned.

I fell over onto the fluffy white blankets of the guest bed, face first. _My own choice…_ Was it though? Was it _really_ my own choice? The Valar had picked wrong, that's all it was. There was no decision for _me_ to make – right?

Air escaped into the blankets instead of an aggravated screech.

Again, I wound up dozing after that, rising as soon as the sky was light enough to deem it morning. Not that I actually left the room or anything, save for trips to the toilet or to go wash up a little bit. No. I secluded myself once more, like a big ole coward, only opening the door briefly when I heard a knock, followed by, "Lady Hollander?"

Since it wasn't one of the Dwarves and I wouldn't have to face everlasting guilt, I allowed Nadri to enter. To my surprise, she brought me a bowl of some fruit salad looking stuff, seeming to disapprove of the state of my diet.

"You have not rejoined your companions for some time now," she said, in response to the curious look I gave her as she handed off the bowl. In the same smooth motion, she passed by me and retrieved the half eaten dinner from the previous evening, from the nightstand. Oops. Forgot about that.

I shuffled my feet and shrugged slightly.

The Elf watched this, glancing at my arm and then turning to exit, saying, "I will return with clean bandages."

Within minutes, Nadri came back and made me sit on the edge of the bed. She took a seat next to me and undid the previous dressings, a minute crease appearing between her fine brows as she inspected the cut, saying nothing until it was re-bandaged.

"If possible, allow your injury to breathe later this evening. I will come to change it again at that time," Nadri eventually advised. The bandages from the previous day were rolled into a neat bundle, and she carried them away, pausing at the door to look at me.

I gave her a smile of thanks, though I don't think that's what she was waiting for, as the tiny crease between her brows had not dissipated.

Her voice was calm though somehow curious, and I couldn't quite read her when she said, "They are certainly an… interesting bunch, your Dwarves."

My brow quirked a bit at _'your'_ , and I waited for some expansion on her statement.

"If you do not enjoy their company, why must you travel with them?" Nadri asked bluntly.

This time, I frowned. What was she going on about? Why would she think I didn't…? _Oh_. I realized then, that would probably be the logical conclusion from an outsider's point of view. I suddenly hoped the Company themselves didn't see it that way, though… Oh man. I shook my head a bit with that frown still there, trying to convey that she had the wrong idea.

Nadri paused to study my expression, the crease finally fading, and her face returning to that naturally serene state. Whether or not my actual message came across was unclear, but she gave a single nod all the same, dipping out of the room and closing the door behind her. I meandered over to slowly reopen the door, peeking out into the hallway. After watching her disappear around a corner, I debated for a moment before deciding to leave the door open, needing some kind of change in here so I wouldn't go insane.

So the Elves thought I was avoiding the Company because I didn't _like_ them? Well, that was just patently untrue. The Dwarves were fantastic and the hitch was that that I liked them _too_ much. I was avoiding them because I didn't like… well, _me_. Which was kind of backwards, but I was wrong for this job and nobody said depression made any sense. They needed like, an athlete who had been backpacking across Europe and did archery in her spare time; not me, whose athleticism and archery skills were limited to the shitty little Wii she bought at a yard sale. Though I could see now why my behavior would come across as avoidance due to dislike rather than avoidance for reasons they wouldn't even have a clue about.

Nibbling on the bowl of fruit, I stared out the window with a frown. Did the Dwarves see it that way? Surely they knew I wasn't upset at _them_ for any reason? I was about to let them waltz off without me, knowing three of them were going to die, however, so I obviously didn't like them enough to endanger my life for their sake… Except, I did. The thought of Thorin, Fili, and Kili meeting their end because I didn't _try_ sent an icicle through my stomach, now more than ever. But… _I couldn't!_ Judging by the trip so far, I would wind up dead before I could even change anything for the better!

I chucked a blackberry out my window, grinding my teeth as I watched it disappear harmlessly into some tree branches, gaining no satisfaction from the scene.

Maybe… Maybe I could try and find Galadriel again. She was bound to show up eventually. If I just kept checking around every night, perhaps I could find her before the meeting of the White Council. I would have simply found the meeting place itself and waited there instead, but I didn't want to risk running into Saruman, regardless of who he was aligned with in _The Hobbit_ time period. (Just the thought of meeting him gave me the heebie jeebies.)

Yes. That was my plan. Find an Elf witch and run away from my problems. Escape the world that I always turned to in order to get away from my troubles on Earth. I would run back to the universe where these Dwarven deaths were fictional and I wouldn't have to feel guilty. The only type of running I was good at.

I hurled an entire strawberry out the window this time, the small fruit smacking against a wall and leaving a tiny pink stain on the neighboring beige building. Scrunching up my face in an attempt to stop any crying, I screamed at myself internally, frustration having reached a boiling point.

 _Jenna Marie Hollander, you bloody coward!_

"Kili's behavior is rubbing off on you."

Giving a small jump, I whirled around to see Thorin standing in my doorway with his arms crossed, expression stoic as normal despite his light tone at the mention of his nephew's food-throwing. I was glaring at him, partially for scaring me, and partially for interrupting a very important conversation with some fruit. This was not a good time to see one of the three reasons for my excruciating internal debate.

Still scowling, I set my bowl down on the closest nightstand to ask, _'You do not knock?'_

Thorin's brows rose a bit at my venom before he moved his gaze, glancing around the room in an attempt at casual. "The door was open," he said simply, looking back to me. "I assumed you would be decent this time."

 _'You know what they say about assume,'_ I signed, expression the same as I ignored the decency remark.

He decided to humor me, annoyingly enough, remaining calm despite my clear issue of having company at the moment, and asked, "What do they say, Miss Hollander?"

I broke eye contact, glaring at my hands as I answered, _'Makes an ass of you and me.'_

A long pause.

Though I didn't see Thorin's reaction, he was silent for a moment before a somewhat suppressed sigh was heard, and I could tell he uncrossed his arms. He made no comment about my cruddy joke, instead asking, "May I come in?"

Honestly, I wanted to say no, GTFO, but found myself hesitantly nodding anyway. _Dammit._

He took a few slow, measured steps into the room, stopping midway between me and the door. Nothing was said as the birds chirped outside and we watched the leaves of the trees rustling through my window, Thorin seeming to think very carefully on his words.

Growing anxious, I began picking at my already abysmal nails. What could he want?

"In the past two days, you've not left this room but a handful of times," he said after a while, tone almost resigned. "You're not sleeping, you're barely eating. The others grow concerned."

For a second, I wondered how they knew I wasn't sleeping, but leaned slightly to glance in the mirror behind him. Hello Captain Obvious, I looked like shit! If I didn't resemble a raccoon before this, then I definitely did now! The dark circles beneath my eyes were a deal more significant, and my already pale complexion just looked deathly in comparison to the splay of colors still on my cheekbone. Not to mention my hair. Lord, my hair…

The way my eyebrows tilted was an obvious concurrence with their reasoning.

Our eyes met again, Thorin taking note of my realization and giving his own subtle expression of _'see'_? It faded relatively quickly, back into that grim set that made me worry about his next words, as he explained, "I spoke amongst our Company, unfortunately reaching the same conclusion as many others. We know now of the runes, of what they say; we know when and under what circumstances the door will be accessible. Though I still have many questions for you before we depart in four days' time, I will not force you to continue on this journey."

I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing. I felt a chilly burst in my veins as I stared at him, not quite sure if I heard right.

Thorin noticed something on my face change – I think what little color there was may have disappeared, to be honest – and he added, a little softer, "I thank you for what help you have given, however, this quest is the burden of myself and my kin. Persisting in your current state would be foolish. You signed no contract, nor made any promise to see this mission to its end."

This was what I had been waiting for, wasn't it? The chance to drop out of the race, wash my hands of this madness?

Then why, oh _why_ was that suddenly the last thing I wanted to do?

Even though he didn't have a clue as to the magnitude of his words, Thorin was giving me permission to let him and his nephews die. All he _did_ know was that he had a girl in his Company who was scared and a bit traumatized, nightmare-riddled with a shot appetite, and he was going to let her off the hook. He knew what the map said now and probably thought that was why the Valar sent me – to be the spare map, the _Birâthûna._ I had done my duty. There was no point in making me go when I was obviously terrified, because they knew I was not just a tattoo to keep track of, but also a human life. It was the same reason Thorin had asked what happened to me, the other night, instead of jumping straight to questions about how the map was burned. They were good, and kind, and loyal, and brave, and I was going to repay them by…

"Miss Hollander?"

I blinked a few times, breaking my dazed stare from a speck on the wall to look back to him, feeling light-headed suddenly. Maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe it was the unexpected slap across the mental face. Either way, I took a couple steps back and sat down heavily on the bed, causing Thorin to come slightly closer, making sure I wasn't about to pass out. It took me a while to steady enough for him to go on, and even then, he seemed to keep an eye out for signs of collapse.

"Tomorrow, I wish to speak with you further about the map. How it came to be on your arm, for one," Thorin informed me, thinking for a moment before adding, "As for your voice… I do not know the correlation, or why the Valar would set such a rule, but you made mention that it would return once the mountain was reclaimed, and reclaim Erebor we will."

I looked back up to him from my seat, tangible resolve rolling off this already striking figure. It was probably a bad sign that I had nearly forgotten about the vocal inconvenience in the midst of my wallowing, but what I had said about my voice that day was only half true. Not that _they_ knew that. Not that I could admit that without spilling every single bean in the can.

Thorin briefly glanced at my arm, observing the new bandage and furthering his point with a sour attitude at the subject. "While there is no love lost between that of Dwarves and Elves, our hosts have less issue with your kind. I see they have tended your injury once more," he said, then looked to the bowl on the nightstand, tone changing slightly, "Brought you breakfast, even if some of it does happen to fly out of the window."

My daze had not quite gone away, and I didn't even notice one corner of my lips curl at that.

He did see it, though, some of the harsher lines on his face seeming to fade for a moment, and there was a long few seconds where I just stared at him, equal parts grateful and regretful of this short trip I had made. If the dip of his chin and the slight movement of his brows was any indication, Thorin was of a similar mindset, a mutual understanding sneaking through the barriers without words.

 _I'm sorry._

He was sorry I had been kidnapped and traumatized, and I was sorry for… well, a lot of god-awful things that had yet to happen, but for that moment, I was sorry I couldn't continue on with them. I was sorry I couldn't be what they needed.

Eventually, to my both my disappointment and relief, he broke eye contact, safely shuttering off whatever had transgressed. Something in my chest was tightening, constricting with the ever-shrinking window before me.

Thorin's grim demeanor returned and he said shortly, "I will have a word with Gandalf to see if something cannot be arranged temporarily."

There was a waiting period, to see if I would disagree with this decision. I took a breath and raised my hands, but signed nothing, letting them gradually fall back to my lap, lifting them intermittently until they were just completely still. No disagreement, no asking to continue on the quest. My lungs weren't functioning and I couldn't get my hands to either. _God, but…_

A mild sigh, like a nail in a coffin. "Miss Hollander," he said in the way that one says 'Good day', and then he was exiting my room.

I simply gave a dull nod, listening to his boot steps as they grew further and further away, and the breath that left me was shaky. It was done. It was over. Thorin Oakenshield would talk to Gandalf the Grey to make sure I could stay here, in Rivendell, where I would be far away from Wargs and Orcs, and I would be finished with this quest.

That was what I had begged for last night, wasn't it? A way out of this?

My heart was abruptly racing as my thoughts bounced around. I was more awake than I had been in a while, reality splashing me in the face like a cold glass of water as I thought about my friends. And they _were_ friends. I enjoyed spending time with the ill-fated Durins; seeing Fili and Kili banter as brothers do, often engaging me in their antics when I was down. They tried this time as well, but I shut myself off because of an illness telling me things that just weren't true. Telling myself I was the wrong one for this.

Thorin… He was going to reclaim Erebor – return _home_ – only to walk straight into a sickness himself, and then die trying to make up for his actions. He didn't deserve that.

I stood quickly, taking a few rapid steps to the open door, setting out into the hallway.

I thought about the Warg, staring me down. I thought about Gavin's screams, and it was almost enough to send me sprinting back to my room, but then all I could hear was Thorin, saying my name for the first time when I was rescued. They saved my life, and what was I going to do in return?

The hallway was empty now, thankfully, as I strode through the building, picking up speed the more I thought about what was to come. I was essentially jogging, though I don't know why. It wasn't like the Dwarves were going anywhere within the next five minutes.

Turning a corner, I recognized the veranda where the group had dined, gaining a few odd looks from some Elves as I glanced around. My head was bit light, but that was my own fault for trying to exert myself after not sleeping or eating properly.

Hearing some familiar voices, I shifted directions, following the sounds of conversation. They led me upstairs, down a walkway with some nice railings, into a room that was lined with the same banisters, and overlooked some of the gardens on the story below. The whole area was wide enough to accommodate the Company's gear, and everything was spread out like an indoor camping trip. There were even the remnants of a small bonfire in the center, where they had no doubt cooked the sausages from last night.

A few of the Dwarves were present when I came into view; Nori, leaning against the wall opposite the banister as he talked, and Ori, sitting on the ground next to the duo I was looking for. I hoped that, despite everything that had happened, the offer was still good.

"Jenna!" Kili exclaimed, pausing in the inspection of his bow. He was seated on the ground as well, next to his brother and Ori, the three seeming somewhat happy and yet worried that I was out of my cave of solitude.

From the wall, Nori just watched the proceedings with one eyebrow raised.

"We worried you would never come out," Fili tried jokingly, giving a smile that wasn't quite sure of the situation.

"Yes," Kili agreed with a nod, looking back to me, "How are you feeling?"

Instead of answering, I took the last few steps across the room, over some bedrolls and what I think may have been a broken table leg. Fili and Kili were watching me with looks that only sealed the certainty of my epiphany.

I realized I wasn't the wrong one.

I was the _only_ one.

I was the only one here, now, that knew what would happen to them. Whether these Dwarves deserved someone better or not, I was the one they were stuck with, and though it was a shitty card the Valar dealt us, I had to play the game. I wasn't sure how, or even if I really could, but I was the only one available to save my new friends.

 _'Teach me to fight.'_

And dammit if I wouldn't at least try.

* * *

 _ **Ah, here we go. Things are starting to look up, but will it be smooth sailing?**_

 _ **Probably not. XD**_

 _ **I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Don't be afraid to let me know what you thought! I love hearing from all of you! And feel free to message me on tumblr as well. I think I'm going to add a TLS tag on there, keep people up-to-date on progress and stuff with new chapters. Or you'll just get spammed with memes. XD**_

 _ **Either way, thank you so much for reading! :D**_

 _ **Until next time~!**_


	21. The Bench

_**Wow, so… First of all, my apologies. I've been dealing with a lot of mental stuff lately, such as depression and a toxic environment, and I needed to focus on myself before I could focus on this. Which was a good decision.**_

 _ **Second, not to worry anyone if I'm gone from this for too long, but I will never give up on this story. Ever. I began writing this fic to deal with my own depression (if that wasn't obvious as hell), so I understand there are a lot of you out there that battle with it every day too, and self-image issues to boot. I know what it's like to be the person on the other side of the monitor, so I'm not going to quit writing. Even if it takes ten years to finish this damn thing.**_

 _ **That being said: I JUST GOT ENGAGED?! My boyfriend of almost six years proposed like, three days ago? So um, my life is going to be busy af for the next few months, planning for a wedding this December and trying to move out of my house, away from my sour home life. So if I can't upload very often, that's going to be a huge chunk as to why, but after that, I'll be in a healthier environment and lord knows that will help my motivation. (Also if you dare blame my fiancé for delays in updates, just know that**_ **he's** _ **the one reminding me half the time that I don't need to leave this story for very long, and that I should keep writing even if my family thinks fanfiction is dumb! So. Yeah.)**_

 _ **Sorry for making that all so long, but I want you guys to stay informed, and to know this fic will continue. :)**_

 _ **On to the story!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

They stared for a long few moments, unsure if I had lost my marbles or not.

"Teach you to fight?" Fili clarified, a little worry showing on his face.

I nodded vigorously and they glanced between each other, the implication of my purpose with this statement soaking in.

Kili set his bow down. "Jenna – "

"Four days isn't a whole lot of time to teach you much," Nori interrupted nonchalantly, pushing off the wall to come over to the conversation, giving me a knowing smirk. "Unless, of course, you're coming with us after all?"

Again, I nodded.

The brothers were on their feet in seconds.

"Please reconsider," Kili said with a troubled look as he reached a standing position. "I know we already said we would teach you, but that was before. This quest is too dangerous."

"There's a bounty on our uncle's head, and no knowledge of who placed it. Odds are, they didn't just give up when we reached the safety of the valley," Fili cautioned, obviously upset about the topic. "Our Company will be a target from here on out."

"Besides," Kili continued, trying to urge away that determined look in my eyes, "The Elves don't seem to mind you. Stay here for a while, or at least until we've retaken Erebor. Our mother and many other Dwarves will be joining us after the smoke has cleared a bit; we could send word, her caravan could pick you up on the way. You'd see us again before you know it!"

Yeah, sure I'd see these guys again. Their tombstones, maybe.

I shook my head, scowling as I gestured, _'Teach please. I am going.'_

The two princes looked between each other helplessly, like they wanted to tell me no, but couldn't find it in themselves.

Kili wavered a bit, quietly saying, "Jenna, we truly do not want to leave you behind, but we also don't want to see you killed. You were… There was so much blood when we found you, I thought…"

He trailed off, his big brown eyes finishing the sentence for him, and I hesitated. I got so caught up on weighing the risk myself that I forgot they might weigh the risk differently. They were my friends, after all. It was a mutual thing, not just one-sided, and I don't know why it didn't occur to me that they would find my plan disagreeable if it meant sticking me in the face of danger once more.

 _'Is why you must teach me. So it will not happen again,'_ I said, pressing onward, hoping they would give in.

Kili's Iglishmêk was still pretty rough, so he looked to his brother for a relay of my response. Fili was aware that he was waiting on the translation, but kept his eyes trained on me, and I knew he was trying to think of a way to dissuade me.

Before he could voice the rest of his concerns, however…

"Well, if you two won't teach the poor thing to defend herself, then I will," Nori threw in, like he was volunteering to help someone carry some boxes to their car, and faced me briefly as he made for the hallway. "C'mon, then."

I blinked a few times, not expecting this whatsoever. Sharing a look with the perplexed Ori, who was still sitting on the ground, quiet as a mouse, just observing the drama, I hesitantly took a few steps after Nori.

"Now, hold on a minute!" Kili called out, making us pause, and though I looked back, Nori did not. The Archer was frowning as he asked, "Just what do you know about battle?"

"Battle? Eh, I don't know much about _battle_ , but I do know how to survive. Gotten into a bit of trouble here and there, figured I'd impart some of my wisdom," Nori answered, finally turning halfway to look back at us. "Better than nothing, right?"

"If she's going to learn to defend herself, she needs to learn _properly_ ," said Fili, mildly disgruntled that they had been backed into a corner.

Nori knew exactly what he was doing, a slight smirk cropping up. "Two trained warriors of the royal family would be perfect for that, wouldn't you think?"

Kili was the one to respond, though it was aimed at me instead. Sighing in a manner that was borderline groan, he ran a hand through his loose bangs, and said, "Yes – yes, alright, we'll teach you. Just…"

I was already giving a hesitant half-smile, looking back and forth between the young brothers with some excitement trying to burble up. Finally I was gaining back some of my optimism, and whatever Kili was about to say died on his lips.

Instead, he replaced it lamely with, "Just... eat something first. You look pale."

Yeah, probably not a bad idea given that I was still feeling light-headed from my jaunt.

Fili sent his brother one of those telepathic messages that, unfortunately, I couldn't decipher. I nodded regardless, curious as to what Kili was originally going to say, but let it go in favor of glancing to Nori, who gave me a subtle wink as he began walking again. I paused and looked to the youngest Ri sibling at the same time that Fili and Kili did, meaning obvious.

"I'll come with you!" Ori said as he stood, understanding the message and following Nori and I.

As soon as we three entered the hallway and were out of their sight, there was high-speed muttering in Khuzdul from the two princes we left behind. It concerned me to an extent that this was causing them so much turmoil, but in the end, I was just glad they had agreed, even if it took some Nori interference. I would rather have them alive and upset with me than have them dead.

 _'Thank you,'_ I said, bouncing in front of Nori so he would see my signage and nearly tripping over myself in the process.

Nori simply shrugged as he said, "Was no trouble. The rest is up to you though."

I gave a curious look, calming my strides back to normal.

"Now you've gotta show 'em you can handle this quest – and all the trauma that comes with it," he answered casually, taking an interested peek at some of the décor we passed by.

My lips turned downward again and I scrunched my nose. Lord, if I didn't know _that_ already…

Nori continued with a blunt honesty kind of made me want to throw one of these fancy vases at him. "You won't be able to hide out and cry for days at a time. You'll have to make sure you eat right, even when you don't feel like it, or you'll get weak and slow everybody down. Fili was right back there, too – there's definitely going to be more Orcs out and about, since I don't imagine a bounty on someone like Thorin Oakenshield would be easy to ignore."

Almost tripping over myself yet again, I walked sideways to speak, slightly irritated now. _'I know all that!'_

"Just makin' sure you remember," Nori said in an almost sing-song tone.

Was it too late to take back my thank you?

"I'm sure Miss Jenna will do just fine," Ori commented pleasantly, though he himself seemed a little anxious about the whole ordeal. "Mister Gandalf said she was chosen by the Valar, after all."

I almost rolled my eyes at that. The Valar were lunatics, but that didn't mean my friends deserved such a dreadful fate because of Yavanna's blunder.

"Curious lot, the Valar…" mumbled Nori, not really paying attention to the conversation anymore. He had picked up a shiny, golden candle snuffer, investigating the intricacies of the design before giving a shifty glance our direction.

Ori was pretending not to notice his brother's behavior, probably used to forgiving these activities in favor of earning the 'cool' sibling's approval, but I was not bound by such wishes. I rested a hand on my hip, flicking my eyes from the snuffer, to the table where it originated, then back to the one holding it.

Nori shrugged, lifting his brows but closing his eyes briefly as he replaced the object on the table. "Not that good anyway."

I twisted my lips in a way that voiced my skepticism, though let it go in favor of continuing down the hallway, awkwardly having to readjust my pants as I walked and they slid a bit at the waist. Retying the drawstring and thinking nothing of it, I recalled Kili said to eat something, so… Oh! I had totally forgotten my bowl of fruit in my room, barely touched and awaiting consumption. Instead of, y'know, being flung out of a window, piece by piece.

With a mild excitement trying to push its way to the surface, I bid Nori and Ori a temporary farewell and padded back downstairs, returning to the guest room to finish off my breakfast. As I chowed down with an actual appetite for the first time in a while, my enthusiasm waned somewhat.

I didn't know squat about fighting. Would Fili and Kili see all of my horrible coordination and decide I was a lost cause? Would I embarrass myself right off the bat? Or worse – would I train my butt off the entire way to the Lonely Mountain, only to still wind up failing my friends?

 _No, Jenna – shut the fuck up,_ I snarled at myself mentally. If my thoughts travelled that direction, I would only wind up making myself miserable again. Though I knew my nightmares would persist and my depression would rear its ugly head more than once on this trip from hell, I didn't have time to mope anymore, and so I quickly focused on my food and not my thoughts. Thinking was bad right now.

Maybe eating too fast, I finished up and changed out the dainty Elf slippers for my boots. If I was going to be getting physical, I'd rather not break a toe or something equally ridiculous. Fili and Kili would certainly never let me live _that_ down, and it wouldn't be very beneficial to my mission, either.

Speaking of my mission; I would need to let Thorin know I was still coming, before he made plans for me to stay at Rivendell, though for some reason I was feeling hesitant. Not about rejoining the quest, but about informing him that I wanted to continue. His nephews hadn't been too keen on the idea of me jumping back into the fray. Would Thorin mind, after that little talk this morning? Would it matter to him, one way or another, now that he knew what the map said? Was he letting me stay behind due to moral obligation because I was a girl, or was he letting me stay because we were 'friends' or whatever and he wanted me to be safe? I mean, _I_ considered us friends (in the loosest sense) but my qualifications for 'friend' were probably drastically different than Thorin's. Maybe ally was a better word…

My thoughts drifted to the feeling of his hand on my back, making slow circles to comfort me. Isn't that something a friend would do? Why would he bother with that gesture if he didn't care somewhat?

I sighed, shaking my head rigidly to get my thoughts back on track. _Too much thinking, woman._ Later, I decided. I would tell Thorin later.

The day was still early and the sun bright, so I left my hoodie behind, only glancing in the mirror long enough to wince at the gigantic bruise on my face again before heading back to where I last saw the others. Off to learn how to kick ass, I hoped the taking names part would follow naturally.

Spoilers: It didn't.

Fili and Kili found a yard similar to the one I had visited previously, though this one was a little less decorative and more open. The trees were smaller and spaced out further, giving it a feeling of separation from Imladris but not isolation, if that made any sense.

The brothers were a little quieter than usual as they led me out into the garden, making me wonder if they still weren't in full agreeance with my decision, but they didn't seem mad, per say. They just seemed off. As Fili began unloading various bladed weapons he had brought, setting them off to the side before eyeballing them thoughtfully, I pursed my lips at the awkward air, waiting for someone to say something. I mean, it wasn't like _I_ could.

Kili continued further out into the yard before lifting his hands to show off the area, turning around to say, "Elves wouldn't know a good training ground if it bit them in the arse, but this'll have to do." The smirk that followed was somewhat more relaxed, and I hoped it was a sign that they were coming around.

"Were we in Ered Luin, we would have a much wider assortment of weaponry to test with as well," Fili said, still not looking our way. Eventually, he glanced over to me with a raised eyebrow. "Any chance you've experience with one of these?"

I came closer, eyeballing the array of blades and daggers and swords. It was telling enough that I just sort of bit my lip and stared helplessly at the weapons for a long time.

A deep breath was taken before Fili clapped his hands together, startling me out of my slowly growing despair. He gestured to one of his paired blades, which he had set out on the ground, asking, "Think you can handle one of those?"

Behind us, Kili gave a half-snort that I don't think he meant to let lose. I turned a bit and scowled his way, causing him to shrug, but his expression was back to the easy, unperturbed way I was used to seeing him, and I knew there was no true offense meant by his noise.

I gave a sheepish smirk back, raising my brows in a 'guess we're gonna find out' manner. Stepping around the arrangement of swords, I bent and grasped the handle of the blade in question, realizing immediately when I began to pull upward that Kili had been right to snort. Dear sweet baby Jesus – they lugged these things around all the time? HOW? It was like lifting a… well, a chunky, solid-metal sword!

The weapon barely came off the ground before my mouth fell open, and I whipped my head up at the princes in astonishment. Fili was almost preening, apparently over the funk that befell them earlier at my announcement, in favor of this moment of pride.

I released my grip, the sword thumping down to the grass as I stood up straight, mildly embarrassed. While I knew I could technically lift the sword, maneuvering it without breaking my wrist would be absolutely impossible. Was I that weak, or were these guys just that strong? Or a combination of the two?

"I'll take that as a no, then?" Fili asked lightly.

I gave a 'no duh' look before shifting my attention away, looking over the weapons again. After a minute, I decided on a simple dagger from the selection, about the length of my forearm, earning an air of disenchantment from both boys.

They exchanged looks briefly, pushing aside whatever disappointment they may have felt. Now they just seemed amused at my choice. I – however – was not enjoying their judgment.

 _'You teach or not?'_ I snapped as best I could with one hand. The statement was slower, though, and the fire behind it was lost.

"Of course we will. That's what we're doing here, after all," Fili said, turning to his brother and nodding his head for something.

As Fili plucked the chosen dagger from my grasp, leaving me to frown in confusion, Kili headed over to one of the trees and broke off a decent sized branch. Well, decent for how young the trees were. He proceeded to use one of his own knives to cut it in half and slice off the excess twigs, marking a notch about a third of the way down on both sticks. I realized, as one was tossed to me, that they were the same length as the dagger.

Still completely confused as to why we weren't using the perfectly good pile of weapons, I pointed to said pile with my eyebrows drawn together and shook my head to show my lack of understanding.

Fili chuckled a bit, saying, "That was just to see what you could lift the easiest, Jenna. There's no point in training you for a sword when you can't use one. Not yet, at least."

While I was glad to see them back in lighter spirits, it was now _my_ turn to become disenchanted with this whole session so far. I waved the stick around with false joy, feeling more like a Hogwarts student than a medieval warrior woman.

"You'll get to use the dagger eventually," Kili assured me, passing the other stick off to his sibling as the real knife was set back in the pile. "This is just for you to get the forms down and learn some defensive tactics without cutting your own fingers off. Or one of ours."

I went blank-faced, abruptly feeling like a 3-year-old who wasn't allowed to touch knives.

"Defensive will be the only real way to go for now, don't you think, Fee?"

Inspecting what he had to work with – aka the human disaster – Fili nodded, and agreed, "For now, yes. She's not built for offensive, but I imagine she might gain some muscle as we go."

"Not as much as a Dwarrowdam would, of course. Hasn't got the same structure, though she's fairly close to the right size."

"If she had more hair, perhaps."

"Her jaw would need to be stronger though."

 _I'm still standing right here, you guys,_ I thought as I waved the stick again, higher this time, and they finally caught on with my displeasure at the third person treatment.

"Either way," Fili said, "Let's begin. First off, if that stick were a dagger, how would you hold it?"

 _Er_ … I readjusted my grip to one similar to what I had seen on a _Call of Duty_ game _,_ with the blade portion on the pinky side.

"Not bad… but it was a trick question," Fili said, and my shoulders slumped. "How you hold it depends on what kind of attack you'll be going for. While that's good for a sturdy grip, it won't allow you the same movement as the basic hold and will be harder to deflect frontward attacks."

I stared at them for a moment, waiting to see if that meant I needed to change my grip or what. When I went began to do so, I was interrupted.

"However," Kili said as he walked over to me and stopped my hand movements, shifting the stick back into my original position, "There are still advantages to this hold. Here, you'll want to lift your arm some – you definitely don't want it so close to your stomach."

"With defensive, the point is to keep a distance between the enemy and yourself so they cannot land a blow," Fili explained. Posed with the stick in the same hold as mine, he lifted his arm to the proper length and angle, and I mirrored him. "If your arm is close to you, then your enemy's weapon is close as well."

"Your legs don't need to be quite so far apart, either," Kili said. When I gave him another confused look, he amended, "They _do_ need to be spaced for you to balance and to be ready to move, but not… like that."

I glanced down at my stance, noticing that I had indeed allowed myself to slip down quite a ways more than what was probably necessary. My version of a battle stance was more arcade fighter and less reality based, earning a worried look from the Dwarves, so I quickly shuffled my feet together a bit, feeling embarrassed that I had assumed such a nerd position.

"Better. Though, don't lock your knees – _never_ lock your knees. You need to be ready to move and that moment of undoing your knee could be costly," Fili said as he demonstrated the correct amount of spring that my knees warranted.

Nodding, I fixed this as well. It took a fair amount of adjusting for me to even begin to learn how to use the stick-knife (which I was apparently holding too tightly, looking as if I was trying to strangle a snake instead of do battle, as Kili put it), but once we started the actual application of these stances, I felt good. Like I was back to putting effort into this quest. Putting effort into being _useful_.

Now, don't get me wrong; I wasn't suddenly a master or anything. In fact, I was an absolute _mess_ when it came to the real lesson. My coordination was all off, and my stick kept getting knocked out of my hand because my grip was too loose, but when I tightened up my hold they told me it was too tense! Each time Fili would show me how to block an attack from a certain angle, it felt like I was working against myself.

"You can't think so much about how you're going to react. You must simply do it," Fili said, backing up a few steps to his original spot. "Again – don't hold your arm so close to your torso."

I stuck my arm back out, frowning at my automatic reaction of being timid and bringing my limbs inward. Shying away from things was my specialty, and it seemed this showed through in my fighting style: hesitant, skittish, and all around _bad._

Fili brought his stick towards my side, quicker than before, and I reacted as best I could, bringing my own down to block and failing. His fake weapon had already poked my gut, leaving him to back up and start over again, instructing on how to correct the move. Both Princes were patient though, Kili giving pointers from the side as his knife-specialist of a brother ran most of the show, and their easy attitude towards the whole thing was what made my suckage bearable.

While aggravating, I was just glad I was learning so I could help my friends. It was almost funny when I thought about the whole thing, honestly. Fili and Kili were teaching me to save their lives, and yet they didn't even know it.

Distracted by this thought, I dropped my stick for the billionth time, earning an odd applause from the archway where we came from. The three of us looked over to see Nori at the edge of the yard, his sarcastic clapping dying down a bit, and Ori. Beside them stood Balin, eyebrows raised slightly at the sight before him.

"Ah, come to watch the show, have you?" Kili asked.

"Thought we'd check up, see how it's all going," Nori said, looking to Balin.

"Aye," Balin agreed, looking a little perplexed at the situation, turning his attention from the Ri brothers to me. I assumed he could figure out what was going on easy enough, if they hadn't already told him.

"It could be worse," Fili said, releasing the remainder of his fighting stance to glance my way as well. "Hasn't any experience with a blade, but she's a fast learner. She took up the Iglishmêk well enough – she'll get this eventually, too."

Collecting my stick from the ground and relaxing my training position, I gave a half-smile to Fili, rolling my eyes at his faith in my abilities. The Iglishmêk was a horse of a different color.

There was a lull in the conversation as Balin gave a very specific look to the two princes – one I didn't quite comprehend – and they turned their gazes everywhere but towards the older Dwarf. The whole affair was horribly awkward as I waited to see what the tension was about.

Eventually, Balin spoke up, aiming the request for clarification my way. "Ori tells me you've decided to continue onward with the Company? Is this true?"

Suddenly understanding the wary atmosphere, I nodded reluctantly.

Balin's eyebrows seemed to rise again, if only just, before he gave a miniscule nod back, appearing to be somehow both surprised and yet unsurprised at this turn of events. By his smile, it was clear he already knew the answer as he asked, "And does Thorin know this yet?"

I bit my lip, shaking my head and glancing down at the stick in my hands.

"Well, I wouldn't wait too long to let him know," Balin said, tone shifting after that to become less serious. "Though I will admit, I was certain that you would want to stay here after all that has happened. What brought about this change in your attitude, lass?"

Looking back up, I shrugged, mouth tight. _Probably Thorin allowing me to stay behind, but I'm not sure how to word that without sounding like a backwards idiot…_

Once a few quiet moments passed, Kili jumped in when he sensed my discomfort, joking, "She realized she would miss our company too much. Couldn't bear the thought of parting with us, poor thing."

This stuck a smile back on my face, and I lobbed the stick in his direction playfully.

He caught the twig with ease, laughing, "No, no, Jenna – throwing knives is a lesson for another day." Mid-chuckle, he was clocked on the head by another stick, flying from Fili's direction.

Fili was now giving a laugh as well. "A lesson I should lead, certainly. Unless you've been practicing again?"

"Of course I've been practicing," Kili answered as he retrieved the stick that bounced off his skull. "Archery isn't my only skill, you know."

"Then let us show Jenna how a true battle works, brother," Fili said, about to do just that when a familiar voice from the archway interrupted.

"Oh, there you all are!"

From behind Nori, Ori, and Balin, Bofur popped up, looking over the scene with as much curiosity as the previous newcomers. He spotted me, smiling like the damn beam of sunshine that he was. "Jenna! Ye look a might better! Feeling alright?"

I nodded a happy little 'yes', genuinely glad to see him while I wasn't a mopey mess of blah.

"That's good to hear, lass," he said back, looking to the others. "Was told to find you all – lunch is ready whenever you are. Still the same vegetable tripe, but it's better than nothin'."

Too untrusting of Elves to just leave their weapons lying around, even though we'd be coming back after food and I doubted our hosts would even need this space in that time span, Fili gathered up his blades and returned them to their makeshift camp while the rest of us headed to the dining veranda.

"Nice to see ye back in lighter spirits," Bofur said to me as we walked. A few corners were turned before he continued a little louder, so the others could hear, "If you don't mind my asking, what did all of ye have going back there? Looked like trainin' of some kind?"

"You'd be right. They're teaching Jenna some tricks to keep her alive on the road," Nori answered as the group climbed up a small flight of stairs.

There was a pause, and I could tell there were gears turning in Bofur's head, swiveling from Nori to me rather quickly. "The road? She's not – You're not actually comin' with us past Rivendell, are ya?"

We rounded the last corner that lead to the dining balcony, the rest of the Company now in our view, already seated at the tables and picking apart the greenery that was their lunch. They looked up momentarily upon our arrival, giving a few noises of greeting, and since Gandalf and Elrond were nowhere to be found, the leader of said Company was sitting with his kin today. My nodding to Bofur's question slowed slightly when Thorin glanced over to us, obviously catching the next half of our conversation.

Bofur took my response about as well as I thought he would, stopping just before the short steps that led up onto the veranda. "While I'm glad to know you're so keen on the cause, I can't help but worry about that decision," he said. "Are ye certain, Jenna? Even after the kidnappin'? Nearly eaten by Wargs, and chased by Orcs, yer still gonna come with us?"

I met Thorin's eyes as he listened. My second small nod was not just for Bofur, this time, but also for the one who had given me permission to chicken out in the first place, though I don't know what kind of reaction I expected from him. Thorin's expression was hard to read; his brows were drawn down in his usual severe set, but his eyes were not narrowed or suspicious. It was like he was surprised, yet undecided on whether or not to be upset with the surprise itself. He blinked a few times, turning his gaze away from me and frowning more than before as he stared at his food in thought.

Always a fantastic sign.

While worried, Bofur still respected my choice and, glancing between Thorin and me, gave my shoulder an odd pat. "If you're truly sure of it, then I'll just be glad to have you along," he affirmed, turning to join the rest of the crew for lunch.

Our little group merged in with the others, finding seats at the two short tables. Fili entered about then and chose the spot next to his sibling, at the farthest table with Ori and Nori, and now Bofur as well, who was patting a seat for Bilbo. As soon as the Hobbit sat down, this left me with the beautiful option of sitting one seat away from Thorin, who was at the head of the other table, with Dwalin between us. Not that I had any problem with Dwalin, of course, or Balin, who decided to sit across from his brother, or Gloín or Oín or anyone at the table, really. It was the weirdness radiating off of their King that gave me slight anxiety.

"So you'll be joining the rest of our quest after all, then?" Gloín asked from beside me, a bit of a frown on his face.

Nodding carefully, I doused my salad in some type of red vinaigrette.

Oín looked up, raising his ear trumpet a bit. "'Soldiers on bed rest'? No, we don't have any that I know of, unless someone's injured themselves again," he said in confusion, peeking around at the tables to see if anyone was missing.

Gloín huffed, and said louder (right beside my ear, mind you), "I was talking to the lass here! She wants to continue on with the rest of our quest!"

Fluffy eyebrows popping up, Oín addressed me with a smile, "Oh! Well then, that's news to me. Thought you'd certainly take any chance to get out after that fiasco."

My lips pursed of their own accord and I found myself shrugging again as I dug into my lunch.

"It will take more than a few _dogs_ to scare our lady away, isn't that right, Jenna?" Kili called from the second table.

"Are you talking about the Wargs or the Men?" quipped Nori.

Kili quickly shot back, "Both!"

There was a bundle of laughter at that, causing me to crack a smile despite the topic. Thinking of the incident still left me feeling clammy and shaken, which was to be expected, but I didn't want to get left behind because of this speed bump so early on in the journey. (Alright, so it was a bit more than a bump. Didn't mean that I wanted to ditch the mission due to a smidgen of trauma, no matter how terrifying.)

The lighter consensus, however, wasn't the only one.

"Seems a fool thing to do, if you ask me," Dwalin put in, jabbing at a carrot on his plate with a fork. He glanced over when he sensed my staring at him, a frown now on both of our faces. Except, because of the overly-large bite I had taken, I probably looked much stupider, trying to have a serious eye-to-eye with my mouth full of food like a damn chipmunk.

Whatever lively momentum they had going was further slowed by Dori's statement, as he said, "Agreed! Not meant as a prod at your mental state, Miss Hollander, but now that we know of what the map speaks, I don't understand why you'd want to risk anything further when you don't have to."

While slightly more polite, this was still not what I wanted to hear.

"My thoughts exactly," came the addition of Gloín, causing me to swivel to my left to scowl at him instead, finally swallowing my bite. He just gave me a stern look, saying, "Why, I didn't even let my lad Gimli on this venture, and he's trained with axe and sword both."

"Jenna will have some training under her belt soon as well. Not as much as Gimli, of course, but enough to at least give her a better chance out there," Fili added in a casual manner, trying to offset the stress.

"Yes," Kili said, "Began teaching her today, actually."

"Not the point, lad," Dwalin interceded, finally giving up on the rest of the cruddy salad before him. "We're headed straight into the thick of it, and the lass has nearly died already. There's no tellin' when we'll be intercepted again – days, weeks. Whatever training ye can get done in that amount of time will hardly make a difference. We know what the map says. She's done her part, no more to it."

My expression was tense as I watched them speak on the matter. There actually _was_ a lot more to it, and without the rest of the story, I looked a bit like an idiot with a death wish, but what could I say?

Gloín nodded his head at Dwalin's statement, looking to me again, "I'm sorry, really, but you should reconsider while ye can."

"Miss Hollander was offered the option to stay behind," came Thorin's response to the subject. "Should she choose not to take it, then that is her own decision."

Everyone shut up at the firm voice, turning towards their leader.

Thorin was seated with his arms on either side of his dish, shoulders a little more square than usual. I waited as the rest of them did for him to say something, though when he finally addressed the issue further, he was staring straight at me. My frown shifted from one of irritation to one of puzzlement at the mood.

Maintaining eye contact, Thorin continued, "She said she knew of the dangers involved on this quest before we started out. If anything, she is simply more aware of them now."

His expression was very pointed at this statement, but mine remained confused.

"We allowed her into our Company at the Halfling's home, and we'll not go back on that," Thorin finished. He broke off his gaze in order to look at the others, checking to see if the topic was thoroughly done now that he'd put his two cents in. Which – of course – it was.

I was still lost as hell though. Had that been his backwards way of defending my choice to go on? If it was, then why did he seem so damn touchy about it all?

The rest of lunch became super awkward, once that was settled. After a few minutes, some conversations about their stay so far cropped up, quietly dying off when it was obvious the meal needed to be over. Not only because of the atmosphere, but because they still just weren't very fond of the food.

The first to head off was Dori and Ori, and after that, several others trickled away, with the Ur family taking Bilbo with them, asking about his wandering through Rivendell. From my table, Thorin stood, making me glance over and momentarily meet this look that I didn't quite get. I could tell he was upset with my decision, for whatever reason, but his expression gave nothing else away besides the fact that he was unhappy. Which, really, wasn't saying much.

Had his offer to let me stay behind been more of an order to stay put and I just didn't pick up on that?

 _No…_ That didn't make any sense. Why would he back up my decision in that odd way, if that was the case? Besides, if he had _really_ wanted me to stay, I would be staying, no questions asked, no choice given. As Thorin left the table, with Dwalin and Balin following, and the others soon dispersing as well, I sat there by myself and understood at least one thing.

I had to talk to Thorin and get whatever this was cleared up. _He_ was the one who gave me the option – key word being _option_. As in, whatever I preferred to do in this situation. So why did he suddenly have his braids in a knot about it if he didn't actually want me to go?

"Jenna?" came Kili's voice, snapping me out of my thoughts. He and his brother were waiting on me to finish up, so we could continue our lesson, but I had something to do.

 _'I will meet down in the yard, later,'_ I signed, glancing the way that their uncle went. _'Have to talk to…'_

Fili simply shook his head as he assured, "Say no more. We'll be there when you're ready. Besides, Kili and I must warm-up first, so it won't be as embarrassing when he is defeated."

"You assume that I will be the one defeated," Kili returned, as the older sibling guided him away by the shoulder.

I watched them go before taking a deep breath, heading off in the direction I saw Thorin go. Of course, Rivendell didn't believe in a straight shot to any one location, so I had to take a few wrong turns, straining my ears for the sounds of any conversation involving that familiar, deep tone.

While it took me a minute, I eventually recognized Balin's voice instead from down the hall, making my way closer with some amount of trepidation. I peeked around an intricately carved pillar, spotting Thorin, pipe in hand, as he conversed with Balin and Dwalin beside a banister, the level overlooking the large study that Elrond had examined my tattoo in. The talking was cut short when the brothers noticed me, causing Thorin to look over as well.

They waited, and I stepped from behind the pillar, trying not to make myself look like an eavesdropper. Nervously, I asked, _'Can talk to Thorin?'_ feeling a little like I was trying to get permission from the other two instead of Thorin himself.

There was some unspoken agreement when they shared a look between themselves, Balin nodding as he and Dwalin left the area. I tried to smile a polite thanks to both of them, earning one in return from Balin, though the effort was wasted on the other. Fine. That was… fine.

I moved tentatively over to the railing, next to Thorin, and looked around the study below as I waited for the footsteps of our companions to fade away. When it was finally just us, I faced him.

 _'You are angry with me?'_

His eyebrows were still drawn down in their usual set as he read my hand motions, lowering his pipe. It took a second, and though he remained tense, his scowl loosened up ever so slightly as he answered, "I am not angry with you, Miss Hollander."

I was still confused by his demeanor, however, tilting my head and shaking it a bit. Starting to sign, _'Then why…?'_ I realized halfway through that I wasn't sure what I wanted to ask. Why are you grumpy? Why are you frowning? That was just Thorin stuff.

Instead, I settled on, _'What is wrong?'_

Probably too broad of a question for someone like him.

Thorin seemed to think for a moment. On the level below, we noticed Fili and Kili passing through the study, the eldest brother carrying all his weapons again, probably headed to the yard where we trained previously. We watched as Kili laughed at something Fili said, the sound echoing a bit in the large area, though neither noticed us on the upper level and soon they were gone, the room going quiet again. In the distance, the waterfalls continued their white noise as some Elf somewhere was practicing on a flute.

"Why have the Valar sent you?"

I blinked, looking over to Thorin as the question hung in the air. Eventually, I forced myself to sign, _'To help.'_

"To help in what way?" he asked, meeting my eyes seriously. "If it were simply to allow us to read the map, then your mission would be at an end. I don't imagine you would wish to put yourself in front of another Warg so soon unless there was a reason."

My mind was suddenly doing cartwheels, thinking of any possible way to appease him without revealing the whole shebang. I knew I couldn't dodge this topic forever, but how to word it…?

"I have been patient – a month has gone by and still I know nothing of why you're here," he said, voice all rumbles with the lower volume. Thorin was getting better at reading my already open face, and he could see I was trying to find a way out of answering directly.

I had to give him _something_ to chew on. Not everything, but _something_.

I dropped my eyes when that blue stare became too much, watching my hands while I answered, slow and warily, _'The map was not… The map was only part of it. My mission is not done.'_ (I carefully danced around the bit where my map tattoo was never meant to be my purpose in the first place.)

There was a pause as this sunk in. A slow sigh left Thorin, like this was exactly what he expected. Then there was silence as he considered my response, and I could tell he was worried about why I was here if the map wasn't the only reason.

"What is the rest of your mission then, if the map was only part?" he asked in an equally guarded way, confirming my thoughts.

 _'To help you on the quest…'_ I said, trying to keep my face neutral and failing miserably. Staring at my hands instead of meeting his eyes was probably the majority of the giveaway, but my nerves wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't allow me to meet his eyes. Attempting to portion out information when you have someone as persistent as Thorin Oakenshield on the case is basically impossible.

The king took a step and angled himself in such a way that, unless I wanted to just stare at his chest, I had no choice but to look up. So I did. Once my gaze was stuck on his, he asked one simple thing: "With _what_ , Miss Hollander?"

My mouth was quite dry at this point. I stood there like a deer in the headlights (my default, apparently), and tried to gather my thoughts while he was so close to me, questioning about these delicate matters. Recalling that _I_ was the one who sought _him_ out this time, I felt even more idiotic. I wanted him to understand that I wasn't just going on this quest for shits and giggles, but I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. It wasn't like I _wanted_ them to have to save my neck again. It wasn't like I _wanted_ to be the weak link, right next to Bilbo – and even then, I knew that Bilbo would eventually become a real asset to the Company. Meanwhile, where was I? What purpose could I have in their eyes without explaining the truth?

Such an elongated pause, while Thorin was already struggling to maintain his patience, was not the best thing to happen. He backed up with a huff as the calm finally slipped. Glaring in the direction of the study below, visibly thinking at 90 miles per hour, Thorin was done waiting for me to answer.

"As I have already said, I will not take back your place in my Company," he stated brusquely, adding with finality, "However, if your secrets endanger my kin or this quest – that is the end of it."

Thorin brushed past me, the smoky scent of his pipe wafting after him. I was left to cringe at how that whole thing had gone.

I wished I could just tell him everything and be done with it, but knew better than to do such a stupid thing. He would either think I'd lost my marbles, or it would be so crazy it would become plausible. I couldn't tell him yet, no matter how bad I felt about remaining secretive when he really had been making an effort to work with me on this.

I trudged back to my room to gather my thoughts quickly, knowing that Fili and Kili were still waiting for me. It was tempting to just say fuck it and go jump into bed instead; revive my antisocial behavior and go back into a depression hibernation, but I couldn't do that to them. Not after I begged them to teach me how to fight.

Recalling what Nadri said about letting my wound breathe this evening, I unwrapped the cut on my arm. Honestly it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would, but it was still healing so I tried not to poke at it too much as I headed back to the training yard, finding the two princes battling it out.

Of course, they didn't have to use sticks to fight with.

"Ah, there she is!" Kili exclaimed when he noticed me from the corner of his eye. His sword narrowly caught Fili's because of the distraction, giving me a heart attack when there was no reason to worry. They expertly used the pressure from the move to skim their blades away from each other and down to their sides as they greeted me.

"And how did your word with our uncle go?" Fili asked, like he already knew the answer.

I just grimaced.

Kili gave a chuckle as he spun his sword once to be a show-off as he said, "Not to worry. I'm sure he'll come around once you're a master swordsman."

"I believe it would be swords _woman_ , Kee. Have a little respect," Fili joked and winked at me, knowing very well I wouldn't take offense over such a silly thing. "Besides… I think it might take more than the length of this quest for her to become a master."

Nodding, my frown became exaggerated as I pointed to Fili in agreeance.

"Oh? You too doubt our lady? Speaking of having a little respect!" Kili responded to his brother, spinning his sword again, too enthusiastically, and nearly dropping the damn thing. He recovered well enough, casually continuing like nothing happened, "Well I say we have a duel. If no one else will do it, I shall defend Jenna's honor."

 _'My honor is doomed,'_ I signed with a blank face.

Fili snorted, but ultimately wound up snickering anyway, leaving Kili to blink back and forth between us.

"Now I – I know you said something about your honor! What was that last part?" Kili asked worriedly.

Fili shook his head, containing his smile as he said, "Doesn't matter. We should begin while there's enough light for her to properly follow our actions."

Grudgingly, Kili let whatever the joke was slide, even if he did keep a suspicious eye on us.

They traded out their swords for daggers on my behalf, and started practice similar to the way we had done earlier. Their forms weren't in need of correcting, though, and they were able to get the battle going right away, pausing every now and again to ask me if I had seen a flaw in some move one of them had done. Obviously, I didn't, because their fighting was A) too fast, and B) pretty friggin' great in my eyes.

As cliché as it sounded, it was like a dance. One brother would move in with a sweep of his blade, and the other would retaliate, a metallic knick sounding out if the daggers collided. Whenever it was clear that I didn't catch a certain move, they worked together re-create the scenario, explaining it as they went, and sometimes pulling me up to make me use my stick to follow along.

While training was interesting (and fun, even, with the way that Fili and Kili were), my mind kept wandering to the situation with Thorin.

I wasn't sure what was bothering me so much, either. Was it just the fact that he didn't trust me? Because if that were the case, then I had to remember that Thorin didn't trust _a lot_ of people. I was just one more drop in that ocean. This quest could continue on and he could never trust me and I could probably still save their lives, but… I didn't want that. I didn't want him to think I was up to no good the entire time.

Maybe it was just bothering me because a whole month had gone by, and I thought maybe I had gained a sliver of his trust, but of course, he just saw it as a month of me not divulging my secrets. A month of not trusting him with my true purpose, and therefore, a month of not gaining back any trust in return.

I sighed, glad that Fili and Kili were making too much of a ruckus to hear it.

There was really no easy way out of this, was there?

Our training was interrupted only by dinner – which was significantly less awkward than lunch, I might add. Gandalf and Elrond were back to eat at their little separate table, and though Thorin seemed to be less irritated now that a few hours had passed, I didn't go testing the waters. He ate over with our host and I gladly kept my eyes away from that direction as much as possible.

Once dinner had gone by with no trouble, evening was rapidly setting in, but I wanted to get a bath before it became too much later. My initial bath in Rivendell had been… hard to enjoy. What with the blood. And the shock. One of those being significantly harder to wash off than the other. Either way, I let Fili and Kili know, pointing out Nadri when we passed her in the hall, and they translated my request.

A proper bath was exactly what I needed. The warm water was calming, the minty scent of the soap I picked out filling my nostrils. My eyelids flickered a few times before it hit me just how tired I was. I hadn't gotten much sleep these last few nights, and I didn't fancy drowning, so I forced myself up out of the tub sluggishly, not really wanting to leave the cozy temperature.

Nadri, doll that she was, had apparently gone through the trouble of finding me a casual nightgown to borrow. (I supposed my t-shirt and sweats _did_ look pretty rough, all things considered. They weren't made for the same kind of usage as the clothing here, so wearing them 24/7 was taking its toll.) The sleepwear she found appeared borderline maternity, but that might have been all that was available given my differing figure. Still, I put it on, realizing with some glee that if fit better than the blue dress from before, having shorter sleeves that actually stayed on my shoulders without fighting them. Just a comfortable, plain white nightgown. Seemed like Nadri was catching on.

Regardless of how comfortable the clothing, though, sleep was still hard to come by.

My determination to rejoin the quest did nothing to get rid of the nightmares. They didn't magically disappear just because I changed my mind and found my motivation again, allowing me to sleep soundly with dreams of kittens and cookies. Of course not. I was still plagued by the memory of Gavin's screams, of having him ripped apart right above me. I still saw Jean with his knife at my throat, and I definitely still saw the possible future of my friends dying on the battlefield. The only difference now was that I actually tried to save them in the dreams. The failure in those was actually worse, somehow.

I stared at the ceiling with my heartbeat in my ears, waking for the millionth time. The ceiling was doing nothing for me, however, making me wish it was… Well.

Sliding out of bed, I put on my slippers in a half-asleep daze and headed out the door. I tried to recall what turns I needed to take, my brain not functioning correctly, but by some miracle, I still found it. The little garden I came to the previous night. The stone bench at the end, while not a comfy mattress by any means, still had its lovely view of the stars. With the moon out, the view was even better.

I laid down on my back, same as before, watching the little glittery specks up above. As expected, the twinkling, vastness of the sky and its unfamiliar constellations set me at ease, lulling me to sleep…

* * *

 _"So you got all the paper work done? Finally?"_

 _"Yep."_

 _"What's her name again?"_

 _"Fiona."_

 _"Like… from Shrek?"_

 _"Well… yeah, but I don't even know if she's seen Shrek."_

 _"Who hasn't seen Shrek?!"_

 _That laugh. Oh, I missed that laugh. "She's a little young for it in my opinion, but who knows what her other family let her watch."_

 _"…Aunt Laura?"_

 _"Yeah, honey?"_

 _"Will you still… I mean, you'll still be able to see The Hobbit with me when it comes out, right?"_

 _"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"_

 _"Well… with Fiona around, are we still gonna be able to do fun stuff like that?"_

 _"Jenna, sweetie, look at me – I'm not like your mom, okay? I told you I would go see The Hobbit with you, and I will, no matter what. Pinky promise."_

* * *

Birds were chirping nearby. My eyelids were a warm hue from sunlight hitting me, and I rolled over, grabbing my pillow and tangling myself further into the soft bliss. I slept like a rock for the first time in forever, dreaming of my Aunt instead of blood and Wargs. It was so nice that I never wanted it to end, but I could feel my feet getting too warm in the sheets. I frowned, blearily opening my eyes in confusion as I ran this through my head again. _Sheets…?_ Sheets meant… _bed?_

Blinking, I sat up quickly and realized the sunlight was coming from the window of my guest room, as was the chirping of the birds. I wasn't outside, where I fell asleep. I mean, I certainly didn't _remember_ coming in last night, but that didn't rule out a midnight zombie walk.

Thinking maybe I had just been too tired to recall returning to the room, I began to wiggle out of bed when I felt something tickle my hand. Raising it up to investigate, I realized with triple the bewilderment that there were several hairs tangled between my fingers. Long, wavy black hair, at that. Upon closer inspection, I spotted a few grays as well.

This didn't click right away, leaving me to stand and walk over to the long table in front of the mirror to grab my clothes so I could get dressed. Disentangling the hairs from my hand, I mentally went over who I knew with black, wavy, slightly gray hair.

Suddenly my fuzzy brain was clear, waking me up thoroughly as I realized there were only two options: Bifur and, of course, Thorin. Even then, most of Bifur's grays were in his beard, and were coarser than these that I had found. Really, I knew who they belonged to. I just didn't want to consider the possibility of Thorin having carried my big 'ole butt back to bed. I weighed too much for that nonsense! The idea alone was mortifying and implausible, but recalling the weight of Fili's swords, and knowing Thorin was used to hauling weapons that were just as heavy… While implausible, I supposed it wasn't _impossible._

Why would he bother though?

As this puzzle was struggling to fit together in my head, I worried that I was going to have to talk to Thorin again. After yesterday, I was certain that he would want very little to do with me, and to keep our interactions at the ally level and not the friend level. This was right on up there with patting my back while I cried, though. This was… well, this was _really nice_.

My face was warm and I looked up into the mirror, noticing with annoyance that my cheeks were a little red. Then, frowning again, stepping closer to the mirror as my eyes widened, I noticed something more significant.

Yeah, the massive bruise on my face?

 _Gone_. Just… _gone_.

I inspected my neck, looking for the leftover fingerprints of Gavin – also gone. Vanished. Like it never happened. My disorientation at the already complicated situation was too much, but then I thought of something, looking down at my arm slowly…

A sliver of a scar was all that remained of my cut. The shiny pink line ran across, under my tattoo, a reminder of my first day in Middle Earth.

I could only stare.

 _What the hell happened last night, Thorin?!_

* * *

 _ **Just as a disclaimer – I am not a professional fighter, therefore any training Jenna receives is not to be taken as gospel, because it's mostly from Youtube. If you are, in fact, a professional, please inform me if I've made a mistake.**_

 _ **Again: I want to thank you guys for being so patient and understanding when it comes to my sporadic uploads. My life will be hectic, but I'm not gone! Not by a long shot!**_

 _ **But yeah! Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter. Was the pacing alright? What was your favorite part? Reviews give me so much motivation, and feedback of any kind is appreciated. It keeps me going and brightens my life, tbh. :)**_

 _ **I love you guys!**_

 _ **Until next time~!**_


	22. In Which Thorin is Uncertain

_**I don't care if I've said it a hundred times – You guys are absolutely amazing~! Thank you all so much for the congratulations on my engagement, and thank you for being so understanding about my depression and junk. It's been hectic af, and I had all my wisdom teeth removed about two weeks ago (ughhh), but I'm feeling much better and I just HAD to get this one out here for you! :)**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

* * *

That woman was going to get herself killed.

Thorin didn't know what to make of her anymore. One minute, Miss Hollander would hardly leave the temporary room she was given by their host, clearly terrified of finishing this quest, and the next, she's deciding to risk her neck marching to Erebor with them after all. Honestly Thorin thought he had been doing the right thing, offering her an out. Now, though?

There was no further reason for her to continue, or so he believed. Dwalin had been right, at their midday meal, about her job being done. The Valar had obviously sent her to be a replacement for the map…

The map that she herself wound up burning accidentally? That didn't seem right to him, for some reason. Why would Miss Hollander be sent to fix something that she would be the cause of? Would the map have been damaged somehow, regardless?

The more Thorin ruminated on it, the less sense everything was making.

He thought he had been onto something, earlier in their journey, when he confirmed that she knew of Gandalf before arriving here. That she knew the Halfling would leave his handkerchief, and that required knowing Mister Baggins would catch up in the first place. All of this, coupled with what she knew of Dwarves, and their history, and their very quest, led Thorin to believe she was a Seer. Of course, she denied that very early on, despite what all the facts were pointing to.

After the kidnapping, however, he knew she could not have foresight. Or any of consequence, at least. Thorin wasn't an expert on magic, but he could not imagine her willingly going through that trauma if there was a way to avoid it. On top of this, surely she would not have allowed the Company to fall into the hands of _Trolls_ had she known ahead of time? No. Thorin had seen the way Miss Hollander interacted with everyone – putting them in danger like that did not match up with what he knew of her. Which was very little, really, despite having been on the road with her for several weeks now.

He did not believe her to purposefully have ill intentions, at least, but she was plainly carrying a burden too large for her. The Valar had set her on a mission – that wasn't just the map, he now knew – and that was enough to irritate him to no end. What could _possibly_ warrant this young woman risking her life again? Was their quest in _that_ much jeopardy of failure? Were the members of the Company themselves in danger? If either of these were so, then how in all of Arda was the ever-anxious, untrained, naïve Jenna Hollander supposed to help them? _Without_ some gift of sight?

There was something _missing_ , something Thorin wasn't getting, and it was gnawing at his patience like a dog on a bone.

If Miss Hollander didn't notice it before, then she surely did now. After lunch, he had been harsher with her than he would've liked due to this dwindling tolerance of her secrets, but he stood by his answer to her very first question. Thorin was not angry with her, personally. He understood the necessity of secrets on occasion. Everyone had them – however, keeping these secrets when they concerned the quest for his homeland was less than thrilling. Especially with his family involved.

Thorin Oakenshield did not hand out his trust to just anyone. Did he _want_ to trust Miss Hollander? Of course. He seemed to be one of the few in the Company who didn't thoroughly nowadays. She had given them no reason not to trust her so far, excepting that she refused to reveal the true explanation of why she was sent. Some of the acquaintanceship barriers between Miss Hollander and Thorin were being chipped away and, despite the situation, he found he did not mind. The young woman wasn't difficult to be around by any means.

She had been less nervous with him recently, warming up to him, perhaps, letting her interactions become more natural. Behaving closer to how she acted with the others, he was able to see some of why they enjoyed her company. Miss Hollander's expressiveness was almost comical at times, allowing insight to her thoughts with more accuracy than words could ever have accomplished. She was eager to help when she could, and was always ready with a smile; sometimes timid, depending on who it was aimed at, and sometimes not. The translucence of her soft personality was perhaps the saving grace in this matter, or he likely would still be back at square one, wading in suspicion up to his eyeballs.

Thorin had hoped her relaxation around him would lead to her opening up more, telling him why she was sent, and allowing him to comprehend why she felt the need to go on this quest. This was not the case, though, creating a mountain of frustration large enough to rival Erebor itself.

By the time evening rolled in and dinner was ready, Thorin found himself wondering if he should speak with her again in order to clear the air somewhat. As they settled at their tables, Miss Hollander stoutly avoided looking his way, with a posture that said something of her mood, solidifying the answer for him. Becoming impatient with her had the exact effect he thought it would.

This was… a step backwards.

Perhaps she simply did not understand his agitation was not pointedly at her alone. Some of it, yes, but not all, with a great deal of if landing upon the Valar. They could have chosen anyone – _anyone_ at all – and yet they still decided upon this impractical woman. Not impractical because of her gender, as Dwarves did not yield the same thoughts on that matter as Men, but because of who she was as a person. This quest would certainly change anyone so untried, and Thorin did not know if this change in her case would merely become new decoration upon the tapestry of her character or if the entire thing would unravel a little more with each terrible experience. If she truly was set upon coming with them, he could only hope that she would be able to withstand any future trials, and sew herself back together as she had so managed this time.

Thorin did not pursue Miss Hollander after dinner, as most of the Company left the veranda, telling himself he would speak to her at a later point in the evening. Lord Elrond bid them a good night just a small time later and Gandalf brought up the topic of provisions. The confusion of Miss Hollander's mission was put to the side for a moment, a sort of relief flowing in when it was out of mind, able to focus on things that actually made sense.

Though they still had a few more days before departure, they needed to begin taking stock of what they may require, even if Thorin abhorred the thought of accepting yet more help from the Elves. Balin, too, was not the most joyful to be relying upon their hosts for more assistance, but felt the need to remind them of the trek that still awaited. With the ponies gone, a deadline situated, and Orcs hot on the Company's trail, this quest had become a race – one that they could not win if they weren't prepared. Even just vegetables and flint would be a help.

As the night wore on, their conversing drew to a close and Balin retired for the night as well, leaving Gandalf and Thorin. With the previous discussion over, the quiet terrace held no distraction, and the latter's thoughts slowly drifted back into the realm of bashful green eyes and broken Iglishmêk.

In a show of his uncanny timing, Gandalf puffed on his pipe once, and asked from his seat, "Have you spoken with Miss Hollander yet?"

Thorin frowned, unsure of how the wizard knew he was planning to soon.

An awkward moment of confusion passed before Gandalf elaborated, "About her own supplies? She still is coming with us, after all, correct? I don't believe those garments of hers will hold up much longer – the materials are much too flimsy for the kind of wear this quest entails."

Feeling a bit foolish, Thorin gave a nod, realizing the topic had never actually changed. "I have not conferred with her just yet, though she will indeed require different clothing. It's obvious her own were not made for long-term use."

"Merely a month and they've become so tattered… Very odd," Gandalf thought out loud. "I do wonder if all clothing of her world is similar, or if she was simply not prepared."

Thorin found himself mildly irritated again, and leaned back in his chair as he said gruffly, "If she was not prepared, the Valar should not have sent her."

Raising a brow and lowering his pipe, Gandalf questioned, "You do not believe the Valar chose correctly?"

"That is not what I said," Thorin replied with a firm air. "I've no qualms with Miss Hollander, but the Valar _have_ made a mistake. She was not ready for whatever mission they've given her."

Gandalf seemed intrigued by this stance, understanding they were no longer only talking about actual supplies. "So you do not believe the Valar chose _wrong_ … You simply believe they should have waited?"

"Perhaps," Thorin said shortly.

"And somehow, Miss Hollander would have found herself more prepared for a world of creatures that do not exist where she is from? Somehow, she would have been ready to lose her means of communication, and traverse through dangers unheard of in her homeland?"

Thorin was glaring at the wizard, wondering what angle this could possibly be leading to. It sounded like he _wanted_ Thorin to say the Valar chose wrong. The King said skeptically, "I was under the impression you believed Miss Hollander to be the proper candidate. You doubt this now?"

A smile of the mischievous kind appeared as Gandalf replied, "That is not what _I_ said."

"Then what is your point, wizard?" Thorin asked, unhappy that his words were being recycled.

Eventually, the small smile slid from Gandalf's face as he turned serious again, meeting Thorin's gaze with purpose. "Whether or not one is ready to take on a duty does not determine how they will fare. You of all people should know that well enough, Thorin."

A long second passed as Thorin narrowed his eyes. "That was entirely different."

"Even so, there were still those who said you yourself were not ready to take on such responsibility. The loss of Thrain and the disappearance of Thror was a great blow to your people, and yet the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains are thriving. Now how is that, do you imagine?" Gandalf asked, though he wasn't really after an answer.

Thorin still responded tersely as he glanced away, "You act as though I did not have help. There were others who were invaluable to me in that time and still are. Perhaps I was not ready, but I was not alone."

"And neither is Miss Hollander," finished Gandalf resolutely.

There was pause. Thorin slowly looked back over to the wizard, knowing – grudgingly – that this was true. While not a survivalist or a warrior, Miss Hollander had the determination, if the Iglishmêk and her rebound from the kidnapping were any indication, and she was certainly surrounded by those who could teach her the needed skills. Fili and Kili had already jumped aboard that particular boat, ahead of the game by some measure. Thorin was proud of them for offering to help the young woman learn to defend herself, and though he would need to sit in and see if they were teaching the techniques correctly, he knew this was headed in the right direction.

If the Valar had truly sent Miss Hollander to help them and she was unable to complete her given task… would their own mission fail? Thorin's main focus was the quest for Erebor and keeping his Company safe along the way, which resulted in doubts towards Miss Hollander and her motives. If those motives were indeed aligned with his own as she claimed, however , then would failure on her part be just as detrimental?

Gandalf seemed to sense that his words hit their mark, that smile cropping back up just the tiniest amount as he sighed, "I think I will retire for the evening now, if you don't mind. Goodnight."

Thorin broke from his thoughts to nod briefly in return, waiting for Gandalf to exit before standing and making his own way back from the dining terrace. It was a great deal later than he had intended, but perhaps Miss Hollander would still be awake.

Rivendell was already much too open and exposed in the daytime, and so the night air creeping in through the lattice-work of their hallways was uncomfortable to any Dwarf with sense. Thorin didn't quite understand the thought process of Elves and their architecture. What did they do in the winter? Did their furniture freeze over? When it rained heavily, did they just let it pour in without worry?

Baffling as it was, Thorin wasn't there to critique their poor building concepts. He pushed these thoughts aside to recall which hall lead to that guest room, finding it again easily enough. The door was open already though, and so Thorin thought perhaps he had the wrong one as he stood by the doorframe, but then noticed the familiar pack sitting at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was empty however, with messy sheets marking the departure of its occupant.

Thorin listened for a moment, knocking on the open door briefly for propriety's sake, unable to hear any indication of Miss Hollander's whereabouts. There was no response of any kind – no stirring, no shuffling, no footsteps. He cautiously entered the room, glancing around the side of the bed to be sure she hadn't just fallen off in her sleep. It seemed like something she would do, however there was no sign of Miss Hollander on the floor either.

With a small frown, Thorin turned, ready to leave the room and just speak to the woman tomorrow as they initially planned, but something out the window caught his eye. He took a few steps closer to investigate, noticing through the trees some distance away, there was a decorative yard. It was almost hidden, and he likely would not have spotted it in the low light had it not been for the vague white shape lying on one of the benches. Even from this far away, he knew it was not an Elf, and unless another of the Company had taken to wearing nightgowns, then there was very slim chance of it being anybody other than Miss Hollander.

Thorin left the room, heading in the direction he thought would lead to the secluded little garden. It was not a complicated route, honestly, with only two or three turns and a small staircase, but there seemed to be fewer sconces lit in this direction, lending to the stillness of the evening.

Reaching his destination and stepping out into the area, Thorin noted a torch on each side of the entryway was lit despite others in the area remaining dark. Though the flames were a decent size, their light didn't quite reach a third of the way into the yard, leaving the farthest half to depend on the bright moon above.

It was oddly quiet as Thorin made his way across the garden, save for the sound of his boots on the grass and the ever-present waterfalls in the distance. There was no breeze to rustle the greenery of the overhanging trees, there were no flutists feeling up to a bit of late music, and even the crickets seemed to have abandoned their posts for the moment. The silence was unsettling somehow, but Thorin continued onward.

His assumption of who he saw from the room was correct, as he recognized the form of one Miss Hollander, lying on her back on the farthest bench, hands resting loosely on the slight hill of her stomach. He could not tell for certain if she was asleep or merely stargazing until he slowed to a stop beside where she rested, the subtle noise earning no reaction, and he noticed that her eyelids were indeed closed. Of course.

Thorin sighed in resignation, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes had only worsened. Their talk would have to wait after all, it seemed, as he had no wish to wake her if she was finally sleeping soundly. As much as her secrets frustrated him, he could no longer see her as quite the threat he first imagined when he met her at Bag End. She had been an unknown factor, an outsider, and now she was simply… Jenna Hollander. _Birâthûna_ to some, even.

It was curious that she would choose to sleep in such an uncomfortable place though, exposed to the night air, wearing a gown that barely passed for decent. While the dress's shape was flattering on her, the white cloth was a frail shield between her and the world, making him wonder if she was aware it was only for bedroom use. Maybe she had just been too tired to care.

Either way, Thorin knew if she stayed out here in the chill, she would likely get sick, and he couldn't have a sick Company member, correct? Even a slight illness on the road could lead to an easily avoidable death, he reasoned, or others could catch the same malady and slow the entire quest to a snail's pace. Even if Dwarven immune systems were hardier and the probability was small, knowing their luck, Mister Baggins would catch it himself and they'd lose their burglar to a ridiculous fever.

Thorin's options were limited though. Had he his coat on him, he would have thrown that over her and been done with it, so it was either wake her from an apparently decent sleep or just… carry her back to bed? While she was fuller in figure, he was not concerned that he would be able to lift her, only that it would wind up waking her regardless and lead to an awkward interaction he would rather avoid.

Pausing these thoughts as he watched Miss Hollander sleep on, Thorin wondered briefly why he was even considering this.

Perhaps he was over-thinking it altogether. Would she even approve of such help, after this afternoon? Waking her was just as likely to aggravate her as not, and carrying her required a certain amount of familiarity that he wasn't sure they had quite yet. Rubbing Miss Hollander's back while she cried was one thing, but carrying her so closely to his person, while she was in naught but a nightgown, was another entirely.

Besides, female or no, she was a member of the Company, and plenty old enough to know how to prevent sickness moreover. Would he bother thinking about these things at all if it was one of the others? Of course not. He had come to find her and speak with her if she was awake, and she was not, so that meant his work here was finished.

Deciding that this situation was not his to resolve, Thorin turned away with a short exhale through the nose, frowning. If it continued to bother his conscience into tomorrow, he would simply have a talk with her about bringing a blanket next time she insisted upon sleeping in odd places.

His mind made up, the Dwarf King began walking towards the entryway of the yard, not even making it halfway before something changed.

Thorin couldn't place it exactly, but the atmosphere itself shifted as the trees rustled, a gentle wind coming from nowhere. Had it been an average breeze, he would not have found himself slowing to a stop, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his senses suddenly alert for seemingly no reason. Instinct was not the only thing at play here as he gradually turned back to where Miss Hollander lay, his eyes widening slightly.

Where previously there had been no one else, a tall Elven female now stood by the bench, on the side opposite of Thorin. She was clothed in a rather regal white gown, with locks falling as silky golden waves around her shoulders, and a silver circlet resting above her brow. The moonlight beaming down seemed to hit her in such a way that ignited an ethereal glow, both disconcerting and captivating at once.

There had been no sound of movement, no announcement of the arrival, and yet there she stood, gazing down with a soft expression aimed not at Thorin, but at the sleeping girl between them.

It took a moment for Thorin to gather his wits. Though surprised by her appearance and feeling something strange about the newcomer, he nonetheless began taking a few steps back to the bench, ready to question what this Elf thought she was doing, hovering over a member of his Company. Who was she? Where did she come from?

The Elf woman gave a slow blink. Ice blue eyes were suddenly on him when again they opened, though her face had not moved.

 _"No harm to her will come from me, Thorin Oakenshield."_

Thorin halted some few feet away as her voice permeated his consciousness. It unsettled him, and it confirmed that this was no normal Elf. The aura that surrounded her was not simply moonlight, the air of the garden thick with magic.

"Who are you?" Thorin asked cautiously, eyes not leaving her for a second.

Finally, the lady tilted her face to him completely, expression not quite as soft, but still somehow amused. _"She knows of me, even if you do not."_

"That is not an answer," Thorin griped mildly. He had no patience for Elves in an ordinary circumstance, so this late at night, delving into _more_ secrets involving Miss Hollander while she wasn't even awake, was irritating. With the way these immortals spoke in riddles to avoid truly answering questions, it was no wonder Gandalf got on with them so well.

The most miniscule of smiles graced the woman's lips as that thought passed. Thorin got the impression that her abilities went beyond simply projecting her own voice, and when she dipped her chin in a slight nod, the irritation returned. His thoughts were his own and she had no right to such invasion.

Thorin realized reluctantly that he would get no identification from her, moving on to say, "If you will not give me a name, then what is your business with Miss Hollander?" He was unable to keep himself from glancing down when the aforementioned girl began shifting in her sleep.

The lady's gaze travelled down as well, though slower and much more deliberate, as she said with a solemn, slightly distracted tone, " _She called to me. Though I heard her desperation, I could not come to her. I am only here to see with my own eyes the choice of the Valar."_

Miss Hollander called for this Elf? He would have wondered how, if it weren't for this woman's obvious magic ability. If she could read his own mind, there would be no reason as to why she couldn't read Miss Hollander's… But why? How in all of Arda could they possibly know each other? Though he was aware now that his mind was an open book for this stranger, Thorin could not stop the questions that flowed freely inside. He should not have had to in the first place, honestly, as they were meant to be private.

"You are an acquaintance of hers, then?" he asked with no little amount of skepticism.

The Elf did not seem perturbed in the least, merely meeting his eyes once more as she answered, _"While we have never met, she is indeed familiar with me. In turn, I with her, though the circumstance is… unusual."_

As if Thorin didn't know that well enough.

However, the words reminded him. When he was informed of what Gandalf had said at the Hobbit's doorstep, Miss Hollander didn't need an introduction to the wizard then either. Was this visitor another piece to the same puzzle? They also knew each other and yet _didn't_ know each other?

"You say she called to you," Thorin stated, not entirely convinced that this Elf wasn't up to something. "When? For what purpose?"

Like he should have already somehow known, she answered portentously, _"As any would in times of despair, she wished to return home, and escape our land. I am sure you cannot fault her for this."_

Thorin recalled their first night in Rivendell, when Miss Hollander broke down so thoroughly in front of him, and her days of despondent seclusion that followed. Yes… He could certainly see how Miss Hollander had found herself in such misery as to beg for an Elven witch's help to flee Middle Earth, to give up on the quest and abandon the Company she had supposedly befriended. Prior to learning her task was not finished, he would have thought this to be the wise decision for all parties involved. For some reason though, now, a smidgen of disappointment wedged its way into the back of Thorin's thoughts, but his curiosity pressed forward.

The map was only part of Miss Hollander's mission, so of course, if this mission involved helping reclaim the Lonely Mountain and the Valar thought her presence necessary, she needed to stay. Regardless, he was interested as to why, if she pleaded for aid from the Elf witch, was it not heeded?

"Why not answer? Why not send her back if that is what she wished?" Thorin said a little more sternly, feeling conflicted. It certainly seemed to be within this woman's power to help a young girl in distress.

The immortal read the annoyance and defensiveness in Thorin, her tone becoming less forgiving at the pedestrian judgment of her inaction.

 _"I knew she did not truly need me. This girl will find the strength to do what must be done, without my interference,"_ was the cryptic response gained. Those ancient blue eyes pinned him again as she asked, an ominous note in her voice, _"Can the same be said of you, Thorin – son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain?"_

Scowling, Thorin felt offended at this doubt. He shot back without hesitance, saying, "Make no mistake; Erebor _will_ be reclaimed, and Smaug _will_ meet his end. Whether or not your kind believe this task possible means little to me."

Somehow, from the way her chin dipped and her eyes softened, like he was a child making a silly statement, he knew she wasn't just referring to the mission to recover the Lonely Mountain. There was a brief, aggravating feeling of naivety that he hadn't experienced in years and was it more than unwelcome.

Miss Hollander had been relatively inactive on the bench, only readjusting minutely in her sleep throughout the conversation. Now though, Thorin's attention was drawn down to the girl by her restlessness and the way her brow was creased in distress, breath quickening. Initially, he thought that maybe his voice was disturbing her slumber, but realized that was not the case. It was easy enough to identify what was really happening, the cause of her many sleepless nights. He wondered if he should wake her, though remembered the other individual, and glanced back up.

Thorin met the stare of the witch.

Neither moved, but there was an odd sensation at the fore of his mind. The air turned uncomfortable and chill as he tensed, and…

 _Suddenly the whistle was sounding off through the trees, panic rising… A vision of snarling fangs so close, so close this creature's breath wafts over him. The growl of that beast rumbling like thunder, so deep that he can feel it in his chest… Is this what she…?_

 _…the man is standing alongside glinting silver, hovering above, but distorted and wrong and red... It melts to orange, to yellow gold... There is alarm again until it is filtering through trees as a bright sun. Her hand in his while she holds on for dear life, trembling… He thinks he knows this scene though, recognizes it, almost, if it weren't for…_

 _…crunching of twigs turns to crunching snow and he is running, the surrounding forest seeming to collide with the chaos of wintery ruins, familiar yet different. The drum of his heart is too loud – he does not understand where this fear is coming from, but experiences it as clearly as if it were his own. There is something… something is missing in the commotion… How does he know this place? Where –_

 _… the thunder is back, but it is not growling. It is not teeth and fur, it is devastation – cracking earth becomes fractured ice and all tilts into a blanket of nothingness – She's crying… She's crying as shadows pass. What is she doing? He cannot let her… Let her what? The image wavers, fades… no, wait – !_

Then, all at once, he was back in the garden.

Breaking eye contact to blink a few times at the ground in bewilderment, Thorin realized his breathing had become unsteady and worked to correct it with a shudder. All was still silent, save for the shifting of Miss Hollander and the racing of his own heart.

What _was_ that? What kind of trick did the Elf think she was pulling? Had that been Miss Hollander's foul dream, perhaps? Or some other vision?

The witch was fully aware of the questions bounding around Thorin's skull, the look she followed up with explaining that she had no intention of answering them. The only response garnered was vague, as she said, using her real voice for the first time that evening, "While a nightmare distorts truth, the truth will lead us to the same course should we allow it."

"And what does that mean, exactly? What _truth_ does Miss Hollander carry?" Thorin asked, working to collect himself again, though less patient. Had that indeed been the girl's nightmare, then?

The time for customary answers was done, however, as she continued.

"Not all warriors fight against blade and shield," the woman said softly, turning her attention downward. In a slow, elegant motion, she leaned down to the distressed Miss Hollander, extending a slender hand to brush the shortly cropped hair aside. "But this does not exempt them from such trials."

Thorin was apprehensive as he waited, wanting to intervene on behalf of the girl's personal space, but feeling a nudge in his mind again. Even though he understood it was simply another reassurance that there were no ill intentions, it was annoying all the same.

The air grew heavy with the weight of the supernatural. Once more, Thorin could not explain what exactly was different, except that the atmosphere was energetic while also retaining an unearthly stillness. The witch bowed gracefully further, brushing her lips across the forehead of Miss Hollander, and the sleeping girl ceased her fidgeting, gradually relaxing under the influence of whatever magic this was. To his surprise, Thorin caught sight of the cut just below the map tattoo, on Miss Hollander's arm, shrinking into an almost invisible scar. The purple bruise along her cheek disappeared as well, fading to nothing as though it had never been there. Once the injuries and the nightmare were banished, the immortal ceased contact, and the air became breathable once more.

Not that the girl wouldn't be grateful for this assistance, but Thorin was still uncomfortable from all that had happened so far. "I thought she did not need your help?" he commented.

Instead of irritated by the statement, the Elf only appeared mischievous, of all things, as she smoothly straightened again to her full height. _"That does not mean I cannot give it."_

"Of course," said Thorin cynically. "One thing is said and another is done, as is the way of Elves."

 _"You would rather I revoke my gift?"_ she asked, in a calm but serious manner.

He glared, barely keeping back any smart remarks, looking to where Miss Hollander was sleeping quite peacefully. There appeared to be a bit of a smile on her lips as well, and after he had paid the immaculate Elf so much attention, she looked painfully simple and flawed in comparison. And very, very vulnerable.

Thorin's only response was a tensing of the jaw as he shifted his vision towards one of the statues in the garden and took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was not just his own wellbeing he would risk by jumping to any bait. No matter the race, witches were not to be trifled with.

There was a long, silent moment before the leaves above rustled again.

 _"Then it seems you will do well."_

He turned his attention back to the Elf, severely tired of the ambiguity, only to find she was gone. Just as smoothly and quietly as she had appeared, there was no trace of her exit. The trees eventually stilled, the crickets began chirping, and the garden returned to its average serenity.

It was about then that Thorin came to a decision, not willing to leave Miss Hollander out on the bench lest Yavanna herself drop down to give greetings next. He didn't think he was ready to handle that just yet.

As he approached, the girl was sleeping more soundly than she had been before, eliminating the prior fear of rousing her with mild jostling. He didn't know if she was simply more relaxed or if the enchantment also put her further under, but either way, she did not wake when he carefully slid one arm beneath her shoulders and the other just below her knees. There was a second of awkward readjusting while Thorin made sure her head was supported on his shoulder and not lolling off uncomfortably, before he was able to lift her.

Had she been but a hair taller or heavier, Thorin realized with discontent that he likely would not have been able to do this at all. Thankfully, Men were not built with the same compact weight as Dwarves. While Miss Hollander was on the chubby side for her own race's standards, she was still much lighter than a dwarrowdam of her height would have been. Despite it being years since he'd had cause to lift his sister, who was shorter than the both of them, he was almost certain Dís weighed more. Not that he would ever voice that, of course.

Once Miss Hollander was secure, he began the steady trek back to her room, noticing with some amusement that she had further balled up against him in her sleep, eager for the warmth. He was right in his assumption that she would be cold. It wasn't as though her light nightgown did much and, of course, with that thought, he was suddenly very aware of her.

In his eagerness to escape the magic-saturated garden, Thorin had forgotten his earlier ponderings of whether or not this was strictly appropriate. Obviously, it was too late to change his mind, as he was already halfway back to her room, but hoped she would not take offense to his actions. Just liberally toting around the young woman in her sleepwear like he had the right to simply because she was one of his Company.

Thorin took great care to concentrate on his path and not the girl in his arms, though somehow forcing oneself not to think of something only makes one think of it more. It was an unfortunate conundrum that he didn't want to examine too closely, so he was glad when he rounded the final corner into the hallway down which her room was located.

He was a little less glad when, from the bathroom a few doors down, Mister Baggins stepped out and spotted him with a slight jump.

"Oh! Thorin, you're… oh," the Hobbit began, startled, then quieted his voice when he noticed the sleeping Miss Hollander. His eyes flicked to Thorin, then to her, then back again.

Thorin said nothing, and only gave a glare that warned against speaking.

Whether because he did not want to wake the girl or because he was just unwilling to stick his nose into the situation, Mister Baggins pursed his lips and ducked his head, putting his hands up in a tiny form of surrender as he walked the opposite direction.

Once the other was out of sight and that was over with, Thorin continued with a leftover scowl on his face into the guest quarters, the light of the two sconces and the moon creating an odd clash of hues in the room. He knew this was a bad idea before ever he acted upon it, and made straight for the side of the bed. Carefully, he lowered Miss Hollander down and eased his left arm out from beneath her legs, letting her head slide off his shoulder and onto the pillow.

When he went to take his other arm out from under her, though, he felt an uncomfortable twinge in his scalp, and realized that Miss Hollander had a slight grip on the ends of his hair. She must have grabbed it when she curled up and he simply did not notice, her fingers thoroughly tangled by now.

 _For Mahal's sake…_

Needing both hands to deal with this, Thorin slowly finished pulling his other arm out, then set to work unclasping her dainty fingers from his locks, having to hover over the girl so as not to tug more hair. She only moved around the smallest bit, sighing deeply in her sleep as she readjusted her head, inadvertently bringing it closer to him. The proximity of the movement drew his eyes to her face, to make sure she had not woken.

Problem was, Thorin didn't actually look away immediately.

He'd not given it much thought prior to this evening, honestly, besides a passing wisp in the back of his mind when first they came to Rivendell, but Jenna was a fairly attractive woman. Though her short hair was off-putting for any Dwarf, and her lips a bit thin, this didn't take away from the overall picture. Instead, these complimented her round face and pointy little nose. Perhaps she wasn't traditionally striking in the same manner as say, the Elf witch, who was comprised of a cold sort of beauty, but more in a sweet, unassuming way.

When it was that he stopped scowling, Thorin wasn't certain, all of this running through his head in a matter of seconds. Aside from her tattoo and strange clothing, there had not been reason or time to dwell on Jenna's physical appearance. More important matters obviously took precedence over whether or not this strange girl was pleasing to the eye, and it startled him that he was even thinking about it at all, much less _now_ , when he was in a situation that could easily be misconstrued.

Of course, in this short moment of distraction, Jenna pulled her hand from his grasp to curl up again, yanking out several hairs that had not yet been untangled. This was enough to snap Thorin back to his senses, quite painfully. He instantly stood up straight, and scolded himself for staring at the girl so, the stinging on his head serving as a chastisement.

Pulling the blankets over her quickly, Thorin left right then and there without another glance, any lingering thoughts tossed out of mind with just as much speed. As if Jenna was not already enough trouble without adding that distracting category to the pile.

It seemed that things just kept getting better and better.

Thorin continued down the hall, thinking on his interaction with the Elf witch instead. Certainly, all she had done was create more mysteries, but that vision was a new source of consternation. Part of him wanted to believe it was just a way of throwing him off, and it had just been a trick with no meaning. The other half thought it was something else. It could have just been a projection of Jenna's nightmare, like he first thought, as it made sense in that context… for the most part, anyway. There were some bits that simply didn't click together, however.

The images were still fresh in his mind. The Warg that had been standing over Jenna when they found her, the Man from Bree with his knife, and the moment when they had finally recovered her – the way she shook, and kept her grip on his hand, terrified. These all made sense, but there were subtle differences. The shade of the Warg had been off, for one, and the angle of the sun had been all wrong in the memory of her rescue. If this were a nightmare, the small distortions could be explained, but if it was not…

The _rest_ of it is what bothered him the most. The snow, the ruins… The location was like a dream in itself that he could not place, yet somehow knew.

It hovered on the tip of his tongue in such a frustrating way, until finally, a different memory surfaced. Of times when Erebor was still a flourishing kingdom, and a much younger Thorin was shown one of the guard posts. He had to know these things, as a Prince, and he also had to know of their feathered allies who resided there. Intelligent and sometimes even able to speak, the ravens acted as messengers for the Dwarves.

Of course, it had been many years since anyone dare set foot there, as it lay beside the dragon-inhabited Lonely Mountain. It would be desolate, and in such disrepair as to certainly be considered ruins…

If the visualization was indeed a nightmare, then _why_ would Jenna dream of Ravenhill? _How_ even would she? The image, while aged and dilapidated, was undoubtedly the familiar guard post next to Erebor. Unless she had been there in person, the depiction could not be so accurate.

This left Thorin at a loss – either the vision was Jenna's, and she was somehow familiar with Ravenhill, or it was of unknown origin and the witch had been playing with him. It could have been a vision of events that had yet to come, even. Both options were not ideal, as the final image and emotions he felt from it were distressing, but at least the second would have more explanation. Messing with mortals on a mere whim was not beyond the realm of possibility for inconsistent creatures such as Elves, and showing him confusing visions of the future without context would be right up their ally.

The entire evening had just been one thing after another, and Thorin was glad to put all of it away for the time being as he reached the snoozing Company. He spotted Mister Baggins, who was getting situated to sleep, pause mid-adjustment of the bedroll when he walked into the area. Their eyes met briefly and awkwardly before Mister Baggins broke it off to lie down, and face away from the look of annoyance, not daring to say a word. Good.

Of course, if Thorin thought the surprises of that day were anything compared to the next, then he was mistaken.

The following morning rolled around, and with it came breakfast. There was no sign of Jenna at the table, earning a few concerned glances amongst the Dwarves when it was brought up, as they had thought she was certainly back on her feet.

"Likely just sleeping in is all," Bofur said, maintaining a hopeful stance on the girl's absence. "She'll be around, I'm sure."

This turned out to be the correct assumption. It was quite a while afterwards, almost noon in fact, when Jenna woke and sought Thorin out.

One of the smaller balconies housed a bench, shaded by the building, and Thorin had taken a seat there to reflect on a few things before he was to spar with Dwalin after lunch. Being set to leave in a few days, they needed to prepare more than just supplies. Growing complacent and out of form was the last thing they should be doing with the way things were.

It was then that Thorin heard the tell-tale footsteps of the girl's borrowed slippers on the stone floor, too light to be a Dwarf and too quick for it to be one of the unhurried Elves that lived here. Without even having to turn around to see, it was obvious when she spotted him through the archway, a soft slipping noise and one heavy stomp signifying the fact that she almost fell down in her effort to stop.

The steps closed in and she was suddenly standing right in front of him, short hair still spiked in odd places from sleep. Her eyes were slightly wide, and she hadn't even changed clothes, really, just wearing her hooded black coat on over her nightgown as some form of covering.

 _'What happened?'_ Jenna asked fretfully, then stilled her hand to show the wavy hairs that remained on her fingers from the previous night. _Ah._ She dusted them off to gesture to her cheek and arm in confusion, and continued, _'I was looking for you. Ran into Bilbo. He told that you carried me to bed?'_

Of course.

Thorin scowled slightly at mention of the Hobbit, but tried to return his demeanor to a relatively agreeable one, remembering how well their last conversation went. "Yes, I did. You had thought it reasonable to sleep outdoors with no cover. If you are continuing this quest, catching ill would not be wise," he answered.

She paused and pursed her lips, giving a short nod. A sort of uncomfortable, half smile that didn't match the expression in her eyes formed, and she said hesitantly, _'Thank you.'_

"You are welcome," Thorin said, a softer tone coming more naturally this time. "Though, should you insist upon doing it again, it would benefit us greatly for you to make use of a blanket."

Jenna caught on to his lighter attitude, relaxing her shoulders, and nodded once more before returning to her initial question. With another pat on the scar on her arm, and a poke at her newly healed cheek, she asked again, _'Do you know? Why it is… gone?'_

Thorin looked at her for a second, trying to decide how to tell of such an odd encounter. Would it bother her? Would the idea of an Elf witch magically healing her wounds make her nervous or scared, even if she supposedly knew who they were? The unexplainable nature of magic even made him uneasy at times, so it would not be surprising.

Just to be safe, Thorin slid over on the bench slightly, making room for the young woman to sit. If anything, the gesture unsettled her more as she glanced back and forth between him and the spot. He just raised his brows and made a nearly imperceptible nod to the open space, and she finally took a seat, looking wary of what he had to say.

"It seems the peculiar is inescapable for you, Miss Hollander," he started. "While in that garden last night, an Elf appeared and claimed you knew of her – said you had called for her, even?"

Brows creased in an oddly unreadable expression, Jenna stared at him before slowly asking, _'Who? What did she look like?'_

Thorin said just as carefully, so as to gauge her reaction, "No name was given, though I do not believe she is a resident of this place. Fair hair does not appear to be so common here, and from her manner of dress, she may have been a noble as well."

Jenna's breath caught slightly as she turned her gaze frontward, thoughts obviously running through her head at an alarming rate. _'White dress?'_

"Yes, in fact," he responded, a little surprised.

Eventually, after a worrisome amount of time, she said, _'I think I know who it was.'_

Well this was certainly an improvement over the blind unknown. "Who then?" Thorin asked.

 _'I think… Her name is Galadriel,'_ Jenna replied uncertainly, looking a bit forlorn as she faced him again. _'She heard me? When I called?'_

"Aye, that is what she said," he answered, watching as the girl's saddened look evolved gradually into one of disappointment. This increased his confusion, and he asked, "How do you know this Elf witch?"

 _'Witch?'_ questioned Jenna, meeting his eyes with obvious puzzlement.

Thorin was not excited to run back over the memory of the voice pervading his mind. "I would not know how else to describe her after such a meeting," he grumbled. He glanced over to the girl, still waiting for the answer to his previous question, and she seemed to remember then what she had been asked.

 _'I have… heard of her. Stories,'_ Jenna responded unclearly – that was usually how she responded to most of his questions about her knowledge, regardless.

His scowl at mentioning the interaction with the witch must have tipped off Jenna to something, however, as she studied his expression. Her green eyes showed a variety of worries that he couldn't pinpoint.

 _'What did she do?'_ Jenna asked, a bit of a frown going.

"Healed your injuries as some sort of 'gift', as it was so put," he said, but was stopped from continuing by a slight flap of Jenna's hand and a shake of her head, like the curing was of no consequence.

 _'You do not look happy. What else did she do?'_ she asked, curiously enough.

"I don't know if it has escaped your notice, but I do not enjoy the company of Elves, much less when they invade the thoughts of others without permission," he answered gruffly. "Do these _stories_ you've heard of her say she is capable of such?"

Jenna grimaced. _'She read your mind?'_

Honestly, the witch had done more than that, but Thorin wasn't sure whether or not to mention the visions he had been given. If it was Jenna's nightmare, the incursion on the privacy of her fear would likely be unappreciated, though he would also be able to then ask about Ravenhill.

However, if it was a vision of something else – whether comprised of past, present, future, all of the above, or simply images conjured to stagger him – should he worry the girl needlessly? After all, her kidnappers were dead, and the possibility of another Warg attack, while very real, would only leave her frightened. Ravenhill was the only outlier, but why would Jenna ever have reason to traverse the ancient guard post?

"Unfortunately," was the only answer that Thorin decided would work.

Jenna waited for a moment, eventually realizing that's all she would get out of him on the matter. Even if she wasn't quite content, and could sense there was more, she did not push for the rest. Staring out at the surrounding scenery, she let her thoughts roam as her expression slowly returned to one of melancholy.

 _'Why did she not answer?'_ asked Jenna, her movements lacking enthusiasm.

Still feeling a little indignant of the attempted job abandonment, Thorin stated, "This _Galadriel_ made mention you had wished to go back to your world. Just yesterday you said your mission was not at its end, correct?"

She shook her head again as he misinterpreted her meaning, and met his eyes with such a look of shame that he knew she sincerely regretted the call. Rephrasing, she said sadly, _'Do not get me wrong – I am glad I did not go home. I do want to help. But why did she not talk to me?'_

He had no answer to give her, and the conversation lulled when she understood this. Though he wanted to, Thorin could not hold her desperate wish for home against her, as he was quite keenly familiar with the feeling. Still, he was not entirely sure how to approach this, for Jenna seemed genuinely upset that no attempt at contact was made by the other party, her gaze having lowered back to the floor in dejection.

In an attempt to reassure her, Thorin said, in the most grudging tone possible, "Rarely, if _ever_ , do I find myself in agreeance with the logic of their kind, so it pains me greatly to recognize her decision as the right one."

Jenna whipped her head back up to stare at him.

"She said you did not need her, and this was true – you did not," he reasoned. "You were perfectly capable of landing on your feet again without the aid of some Elven witch."

The young woman beside him simply kept staring, like she did not expect support after he found out she tried to go home early. Again, while not _fantastic_ , it was only natural given what she had been through. The look on Jenna's face reminded him of Gandalf's words the previous night, and so he continued before he could talk himself out of it, shifting his vision out over the balcony when her endless gaze did not dwindle.

"Whether or not you choose to believe it, there are others willing to assist," Thorin said. "Whatever mission given to you by the Valar, do not feel as though you must do it alone. If it involves this quest, then it is our burden as well, if not more so."

By that point, when there was no attempt at signing, he glanced over to see Jenna staring straight ahead like he had been. Her eyes were shining as though about to cry, but her expression did not seem saddened. Was this a step in the right direction?

Emboldened by the reaction he was garnering, Thorin kept going in the hopes that this blatant encouragement from him would open more doors than his suspicion.

"You insist upon carrying this responsibility – though Mahal knows _what_ exactly it is – when this journey is not yours to make. You are neither Dwarf nor hired _burglar_ ," he said, putting dry emphasis on the Halfling's role, but returned his voice to a comforting note, "And while I cannot pretend to understand what you could possibly be here for, do not think the sentiment is unappreciated."

Jenna blinked over at him, still looking both a bit bewildered and yet strangely calm. Her face turned questioning at his final sentence, though, leading him to continue whether he meant to or not.

He lowered his voice somewhat and said, with an accidental tang of resentment, "Not many in this world would risk their lives for Dwarves, Miss Hollander."

The girl averted her gaze once more, staring outward at the surrounding trees as she thought on something with incredible focus. A long silence passed and Thorin wondered if, perhaps, this conversation had run its course, standing from the bench to let Jenna mull things over.

"If you're hungry, lunch should be along soon," he said as a parting statement, unsure of what to say in the midst of her inactivity. With that, he made for the archway of the balcony, halfway down the hall when he heard Jenna's footsteps following. He assumed she was simply heading the same direction and would split off to another hall when they passed, but the steps neared and there was a tug at his sleeve.

When Thorin turned around, Jenna would not meet his eyes. She was biting her lip with such force he thought it would draw blood and her fingers remained pinched onto the cloth of his tunic for a long while, like she had forgotten she was even holding on. Her entire posture radiated disturbing levels of anxiety as her grip on his sleeve dropped for her to sign.

 _'I have to tell you something.'_

* * *

 **;)**

 **Yeah, so most of the lore I know comes from the movies and from wiki. In the movies it says Thrain disappeared after the battle of Azanulbizar, and I know that clashes with the book somewhat, but I'm basing this on mostly movie-verse, so. Eh.**

 **Also Galadriel fucking with Thorin is probably my favorite trope that I just couldn't stop myself from partaking in, so my apologies to everyone. XD I won't pretend to be an expert on Galadriel, but I figure if she can blast Sauron halfway across Middle Earth, then she can heal a few boo-boos.**

 **Also also! I really don't mean to make all of these cliffhangers! I only realize it after I've written the chapter, and by that point it's too late. So forgive me if you can, and I'll try to give you guys a break on the next one. LoL**

 **Anyway – the usual! Let me know what you guys thought! Were your theories on the healing correct? Did you enjoy Thorin and Jenna's interactions? I want to hear it all! Good and bad!**

 **Either way, I love you guys! Stay safe, take care of yourselves, and I'll see you next time! :D**


	23. The Confidant

_**There is absolutely no way in hell I could ever thank you guys enough. Not just for reading and reviewing and all that jazz, but for supporting me when I really need it. I have legit cried at some of the messages you guys send, and the whole phenomenon is just unbelievable to me. Thank you all so much.**_

 _ **Anyway, this chapter was exhausting in about seven different ways and I think I may have shaved a few years off my life, but here we are! All aboard the drama train. Choo choo.**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

* * *

 _'I have to tell you something.'_

I must have lost my mind.

That's it. That has to be what happened. Something in my brain short-circuited at Thorin's words, at the thought that I wouldn't have to carry this all on my own. The thought that, no matter how insane the truth was, I might have someone here who could help me deal with the reality of what I was living.

The idea of unleashing some of this burden onto Thorin was a terrifying one, as it could very easily set this quest on a crash course, but at his offer of assistance, I knew I didn't want to do this by myself. I didn't know who else I would possibly turn to other than him, either. _He_ was the one who wanted answers. _He_ was the one who deserved to know why his family's map was on my arm. Telling anybody else before him would be wrong. Besides, if anyone could handle this potentially life-altering information, it was Thorin Oakenshield. Right?

"What is it?" he asked, almost wary, as we stood in the hallway still. It was like he could tell I was about to drop some kind of bomb.

The pain of biting my lip eventually reached me through my cloud of anxiety, forcing me to let up before I pierced skin. How was I supposed to begin this conversation? What do I even say? How _much_ should I say? I had already decided that revealing too much prior to crossing the Misty Mountains could result in catastrophe, so where should I draw the line?

There was one thing I already knew, though; If I told Thorin the truth, I wanted it to stay between us for the time being. Not because I didn't trust the others or anything, but rather because I wasn't sure I wanted them to know right now, if _ever_. My reasoning was probably really selfish and slightly morbid, as it centered around the possible failure of my mission, because if the others knew about my knowledge of the future and the Line of Durin did indeed get wiped out, then… Surely to God, they would all hate me. They would have to.

But if Thorin knew, and truly kept the secret for me? He would literally take the information to his grave.

The thought made me a little ill.

 _'Promise first,'_ I requested. _'Promise if I tell you, it stay secret for now?'_

With no desire to spook me back into my shell of mysteries right when it seemed he was finally going to get real answers, Thorin gave me a long look – like he was weighing the value of his word for a promise against the possible weight of my information. In the end, of course, he wanted to know more than anything.

"For now," he agreed, dipping his chin with a serious note. There was an unspoken policy in there, pertaining to his earlier words about possibly endangering the Company or the quest, and it made me a little nervous for obvious reasons, but I wouldn't have expected any less. At least this would afford me some time.

By now, he knew what I wanted when it came to promises. I had been handing them out like candy since I got here, after all. I didn't have to prompt him, for his hand came up the same time mine did, our pinkies latching together in a familiar motion. It was almost reassuring when my hand was shaking so much and yet his didn't waver, with me initiating the small squeeze of our digits, and him allowing it to purposefully last until my hand wasn't quivering as badly. The gesture was a comfort I didn't expect, so I was all the more grateful for it. Apparently he read this on my face as I relaxed slightly and we dropped our hands.

As I was trying to find the words to begin this utter insanity, Thorin waited patiently. He had waited a month or so already, so five minutes wasn't exactly going to break the deal.

 _'I told that I had heard of Galadriel. Stories,'_ I signed to start with. _'Story part is… true. But from a book. Books.'_ I corrected the plural with a small wobble of my head, my mouth feeling like cotton as my hands started getting clammy.

My companion had no clue where this was going. Understandable.

 _'She is not…'_ Oh man, was I getting enough oxygen? I didn't feel like I was getting enough oxygen. _'She is not the only one from books.'_

I hesitated to meet his gaze for any length of time, but I could practically feel the stare becoming more perceptive, trying to pick out all my unconscious signals and decipher them in his calculated way.

 _'My home has books of Middle Earth. Books have Galadriel as a character in story. A… made up story. Fiction,'_ I said as my hands shook. _'Stories also had Gandalf. And Bilbo. And Company. And…'_ When my sweaty palms refused to continue, I finally brought my eyes up, very purposefully meeting his gaze, not only to convey the next person I was going to list, but also to see how he was reacting so far.

Thorin looked… perplexed. Not like I had delivered some Earth-shattering revelation, but more like if your friend were to start talking about having seen a One-eyed, One-horned, Flying Purple People Eater.

Of course. In all my fretting this morning, I hadn't accounted for the fact that he _wouldn't believe me._

"If you are joking, then your humor leaves something to be desired, Miss Hollander," said Thorin, brows still not quite at a scowling level.

It was my turn to frown, however, realizing this was not going how I expected. What I expected was shock, or anger, or… I don't know! But I didn't expect this weird indifference as he worried over my sanity!

 _'You were character in story. Story book about quest,'_ I continued, some of my nervousness being replaced with consternation.

"In case it escaped your notice, I am not a character in a story book – Nor is Gandalf, or Mister Baggins. I've no idea what you have yourself convinced of, but unless you are willing to tell the truth, we are finished here," he stated, his tone firm, though still calm, as if he was genuinely concerned that I might be running a fever or something.

As Thorin began to turn away, I nearly tripped over myself trying to remain in front of him, essentially just switching places as he took a step back in surprise at my persistence.

 _'Quest for Erebor is a story at my home! Middle Earth is in story books!'_ I tried again. _'It is how I know Dwarf history, but no Dwarves back home. It is how I know of Smaug and quest before we ever met!'_

That frown was definitely present by now, and it was like he was debating about whether or not I was crazy. On one hand, my entire presence had been _bizarre_ from the beginning and anything less than a _bizarre_ explanation would have seemed wrong. On the other hand, there was a line he had to draw at what he was able to believe. I mean, who could blame him? I was _not_ about to attempt explaining movies at the moment, either. That was a whole other barrel of monkeys to wrestle with, and only _after_ I got past the current problem. If I could get him to believe books, we would worry about the mind-boggling witchcraft of _films_ at a later date.

"You gave your word that you would tell the truth, and this is not a matter to be taken lightly," Thorin restated, like I had truly lost my marbles. I could see it though – he knew I was telling the truth already, he just didn't know _how_. I was a horrible liar and he knew my nervous habits by now, plus he knew how to read people in general, so this was a whole new debacle.

Even though I sounded like a maniac, I had to go on. If I backed down now, I would probably never work up the courage to try again. _'I have read the book. The story. I knew Bilbo would leave the handkerchief, but you did not know how I knew. And the map… The book has picture of the map. A drawing. It is how I have the map on my arm. You wanted truth – I am telling the truth. How else do you explain these things if not?'_ I responded, surprised my hands were listening to me well enough to speak that much.

"I do not know else how to explain it, but that cannot possibly be the _truth_. You expect me to believe our entire world is from a story book, when it is here, plainly for you to see? That our quest is a tale from your land when it has not even happened yet?" he asked with more strictness and a vague gesture at our surroundings.

 _'YES,'_ I motioned strongly, without hesitation.

Seeming taken aback by my unwavering certainty in the matter, when I was usually so timid and unsure of everything, Thorin didn't know what to make of my 'truth'. The gears were turning, the engine room in his brain a flurry of activity, I was sure. On one hand, it would explain some things, but – but on the other hand… It was insane. He stood up a little straighter and his expression became more severe, realizing in the midst of his doubt, he had lost his officious stance.

A little more calmly, I added, _'It is how I know things, yet am not seer. I did not lie to you. I do not want to.'_

Thorin stared at me for a while, putting more pieces together as his gaze went right through my soul, and said in an almost tired way, "Surely you understand how ridiculous this sounds?"

I raised my brows together and nodded in a 'yeah, no kidding' way, basically pleading with him at this point.

Shaking his head, he disagreed with the entire concept again. "My actions and choices are my own. We are not part of some preordained course written in a book."

Pursing my lips, I gave a small exhale through my nostrils, knowing this was a lot for anyone to wrap their mind around.

"It does not make any sense," he huffed, crossing his arms and glancing around for a moment with a look of concentration.

When his eyes landed back on me, I simply said, _'You are right. It does not.'_

Thorin seemed to glare a little bit more at that and became more skeptical than ever. "If we are indeed _storybook_ characters, then how did you come to be here? How could the Valar send you to our world if it does not _exist_ according to yours?"

In a rather ungraceful, partially panicked move, I fanned my arms out in the biggest shrug I could muster. Did he think I was not also super confused about this scenario? _I_ was the one talking to a fictional Dwarf King!

Sighing through his nose at my lack of information on the matter, Thorin shook his head as one does when dealing with someone you know has to be wrong, but don't want to bother arguing with anymore. This was going nowhere fast, but I had a few more cards to throw on the table.

 _'Balin was with you when Smaug attacked,'_ I said, trying to pull random shit from my memory. There was a brief question in Thorin's eyes, to which I responded, _'No, he did not tell me. I know from story. I know you pulled him from way of fire, behind pillar.'_

Thorin's stare became less focused, seeming to recall the memory himself to check against my words. His frown turned to one of confusion and partial disbelief when he realized I was telling the truth.

Rooting around in my data banks was oddly hard with those eyes on me, but I found another one regardless. A better one. _'I know… You met Gandalf at Prancing Pony before quest. It was… raining. Before Gandalf came, there were two men. They looked… bad. You thought maybe going to attack? But Gandalf sat down at table and men did not do anything. Gandalf showed you bounty written in Black Speech. He was the one who said to take back mountain. To take back home while you have the chance. Said you need a burglar...'_

I slowed my hand motions to a stop when I noticed this had worked quite a bit better. At the very start of the spill, Thorin still appeared suspicious and uneasy, but over the course of it, his eyes grew a little wider and his frown gradually changed to an almost stunned expression. I would have reveled in the fact that this was now the second time I had caused his mouth to come open just a smidge in surprise, but he was already recovering in order to secure his expression more. It was testament to how much he was caught off guard that I was still able to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"How…? I informed very few of that meeting – and told not a soul of the Men," Thorin said, half to himself, it seemed, as he uncrossed his arms. He grasped for some other explanation. "Did the _wizard_ mention this to you?"

Seeing as how he already knew the answer, my small head shake was basically pointless, though I gave one anyway out of courtesy. No, Gandalf hadn't told me jack.

It was my turn to be patient as Thorin soaked in this information, trying to decide how to approach this when everything I said was both crazy _and_ true.

"Hypothetically, even if I were to believe this for one single moment," he reasoned, trying to run with it for my sake, "there are still far too many… implications. Things that would never…"

As he trailed off in thought, looking troubled, and I began worrying. Um… Implications? I waited for him to put more of the puzzle together as I grew very still.

"The story from your world – the tale of our quest. It is complete? The entirety of our journey is in a book you claim to have read?" Thorin summarized.

My nervousness was returning as my posture turned awful, but I nodded. _Here we go…_

"So, while you do not have Sight in the typical way, this means you are still privy to what awaits us. This would mean you've known what was going to happen before ever it had."

I'm sure there was a metric ton of guilt written across my forehead right then. It only grew worse as he read the answer on my face, his own expression shifting at the same time. I could see when the realization hit him, and he started to believe a little more, but I could also see him trying to find a loophole. Something in my admission that would prove me innocent of this new suspicion. Like he didn't actually _want_ this to be the truth, more so than before.

Of course, there were no loopholes. I was being honest. Like a moron.

Thorin's tone was too low. "If so, you would have known to warn us of the Trolls."

Yeah. About that.

My automatic reaction was to cringe in on myself slightly as I dropped my gaze to the side. I couldn't meet his eyes, my face scrunched with regret, and I began to pick at my sleeves anxiously.

The sudden hush was deafening. Forget the fact that there were birds chirping cheerily everywhere outside the building, the sun shining down with glee. The silence between us might as well have been nails on a chalkboard.

"So you did know." It wasn't a question, Thorin's tone composed of a quiet rumble I wished I would never have to hear aimed at me. "That is why you behaved so strangely that night. It was not your worry over Gandalf's departure – it was because you knew what would happen?"

I bit my lip. That was the only answer needed.

"You knew, and yet allowed the ponies to be stolen? Allowed _my_ _Company_ to be caught by Trolls regardless?" he asked, becoming harsh as his former patience disappeared in the wake of my admission.

My hands fluttered in front of me as I started words, but couldn't think of anything comprehensible.

Seeing no denial of the allegation – because it was, well, _true_ – Thorin seemed to become yet more dumbstruck at the circumstances. "Were you trying to get us all _killed_ , Miss Hollander? Whether or not your information came from a book, if you knew of the Trolls, why did you not think to warn us?"

My mouth fell open hopelessly and I began to sign again, _'No one was to get –'_

He came to another realization just as quickly, ignoring my hands, "Then you knew we were being tracked by an Orc pack, as well? That Wargs would be on our heels! You knew we would have two Men after us, on top of this?"

I began to shake my head frantically at that, finally meeting his eyes. God, he was livid. Probably betrayed, from his view point. Honestly this was the first time his anger had really been geared at me, and I didn't like it one bit. I felt like the crappiest human being alive. It was already so hard to gain his trust. Was this the end of what little I had earned?

Trying to speak with shaking hands was difficult. _'I did not about Men – the men were… they were my fault. They were not meant to be there.'_

"What does that _mean_ , Miss Hollander?" he demanded.

 _'They would not have saw you, if not for running into me. In Bree, they were not to ever meet you. It was not part of the story. I… I am not part of story,'_ I explained anxiously.

The last part did not stick in his current state, and he focused instead on, "The _Men_ were the only thing you did not know of? So you still knew of the Orc pack?" His tone conveyed the 'How is that any better?' without the actual question.

A small nod from me, wishing I could just vanish into the floor.

His anger melded with confusion once more as he flared his nostrils and began to pace. The hallway didn't provide much room for his pacing though, keeping his pent up frustration from having a proper outlet. "Do you have any idea what could have happened? How easily everything could have been lost? The quest – our _lives?_ "

I began shaking my head again, and he misconstrued it, but I quickly raised my hands to say, _'Would not have died. No danger. Company would not have been hurt.'_

"No _danger?_ " Thorin stopped his pacing to ask incredulously. "Unless I'm mistaken, you yourself were nearly devoured by a Warg, Miss Hollander – how can you say there was no _danger?_ "

When I thought of the teeth and the terrifying eyes, I became frustrated and tried to straighten up my cowardly posture. _'Not me! You! Company! Would have been fine! In book the Company was fine! Men were my fault! Bofur was not meant to get in fight with Men. So Bofur was not meant to get hurt.'_

"What?" Thorin asked, more out of frustration than anything. "What are you saying?"

 _'I changed the story!'_

There was a pause in the Dwarf's rampage, making a very difficult attempt at understanding my explanation in the midst of his anger. Trying to figure out what the hell would prompt me – the _seemingly harmless_ girl – to endanger her new friends when she could have apparently prevented several enemy encounters.

 _'Bofur stayed behind for me during Trolls. If I had not been here, Bofur would have gone. Would have stayed safe with Company. Saved by Gandalf. No Men would have come for bounty, because they would not have seen you in Bree. I am not character in the story.'_

Though Thorin was still mad, and his scowl had not subsided, he appeared to be at least thinking again. He crossed his arms once more, as if he was keeping his temper at bay with this motion.

 _'Your story of quest – it does not have me. I am… outside of…'_ Urgh, how the hell was I supposed to explain this?! _'Outside of rules. Not stuck to path. Things have started to change when I did not mean them to.'_

A long moment passed while he reviewed what he had learned, meeting my gaze. His eyes were not soft by any means, and I could tell I was not forgiven yet, but maybe not all hope was lost. "Such as?" he asked sharply.

 _'The map,'_ I answered. Another pause followed as this processed.

"It was not meant to burn," he deduced on his own, like he had already been considering something in the same vein of thought, and glanced away to line this information up with what he knew. A look back to me. "And you say the Men were never meant to follow our Company? They were only aware of us because of your run-in at Bree?"

I nodded as he began to understand, finally, what I was trying to say. _'Map was meant to be read here. You were meant to let Elrond read in moonlight.'_

"So the Elves would have known either way," Thorin seemed to grumble resentfully.

While waiting for him to continue, I dared to ask hesitantly, _'So you… believe me?'_

Honestly, he looked a little dumbfounded again. "I'm not certain what to believe right now, but what purpose would it serve you to lie about something of this nature? How would it benefit you to admit knowing of the Trolls and the Orcs if there wasn't a grain of truth to it?" Thorin asked, his expression turning odd, as if he was questioning his own sanity for considering any of this.

He had a point. It was risky even saying anything about it at all, so why would I claim to have known unless I was just off my rocker, rolling around in death wishes? The logic made me nod a little absent-mindedly as I watched the man in front of me.

Thorin shook his head, something still bothering him deeply, as he stared right at me and asked in a bitter tone, "Why did you not tell us of the Trolls? Or that we were being hunted? Regardless of whether or not anyone was meant to be injured in your _story_ , why would you not warn us? According to you, the Valar sent you here with this knowledge, so why did you not make _use_ of it? Does loyalty mean nothing in your world?"

With a shuddering breath, suddenly very tired despite it only being around noon, I gave my head a small shake and reiterated morosely, _'I knew Company would be safe. Should have been. It was not good and I am sorry, but… I am afraid to change too much yet. I have to be careful.'_

He scoffed at that. "Careful? What are you being careful of by letting an Orc pack corner us?"

 _'Chain… reaction. Change one thing, the rest will change too. Story will play out too different and I will not know future any longer,'_ I tried to explain, getting a slight headache. _'I only know one… version of the future. One path. If I push us to different path before time, I will not know how to help Company when you really need it.'_

Thorin also looked done with this conversation, which was no surprise considering all that I had just dumped on him. However, this last bit caught his attention the most, and he inquired, "You've said before that the Valar chose you to join us on this quest, so what else is involved? Are you not meant to help us navigate the perils of our journey, if you already know every obstacle that stands between us and Erebor?"

 _'That is not main reason why I was sent, but… I do want to help if can without messing up future,'_ I offered, because it was true. Technically I wasn't sent to change anything but the dreadful outcome of the final battle, but I really did want to do what I could if it didn't doom Middle Earth.

"And a fine job of _helping_ you've done so far," he said scathingly, his ire returning. "If you say that is not your mission, why are you here? What do you mean when you speak of 'pushing us to a different path before time'? Is there something amiss with our current alleged course?"

The inquiry was veering into territory that I didn't know how to deal with, and I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack. I couldn't _think_ when he was like this, when there was so much more pressure.

"I have the right to know if my Company is heading into danger. Does the Orc pack locate us once more? You _must_ tell me if you have such information, if you know when next we will be _hunted_ –"

Scrunching my eyes closed, I finally just shook my head wildly for him to stop. When I opened my eyes again, I signed quickly, _'I cannot!'_

"Then of what use are you on this quest?" he snapped.

I physically recoiled without meaning to, my hands frozen in the midst of signing.

With my sudden reaction, Thorin seemed more aware of what he'd said, his brows furrowing in a bit of a contrite way. While my decision to keep the Trolls and the Orc pack a secret was beyond brainless in his eyes, I don't think he was fully able to equate 'pudgy potato girl' with 'malicious turncoat' or this likely wouldn't even have phased him.

Of course, I didn't get to examine his expression too closely, because then there was a vague blur. I began blinking rapidly and my airway felt kind of thick, and... Ah, yes. Good. I was starting to cry. Awesome.

I turned my head away slightly so he wouldn't see, even though it was super obvious what was happening. All of my former doubts had come flooding back. Some part of me was angry that he would offer his help and then get mad when I told the truth, while the other part kind of got _why_ he would be mad. By all means, the Company was in a life or death situation not but a few days ago. They legit thought they were going to have to fight for their lives. The fact that I couldn't change it without potentially messing up everything prior to the Misty Mountains was not great, but… what the fuck, man.

I tried to clear my throat by swallowing. It sounded so loud in my ears, but a few moments later, there was a different noise in the hallway. A heavy sigh made me look up, and I didn't care enough to try and stop the little traitorous tears that slid down my cheeks because everything was _stupid._

Thorin's arms were partially crossed, with one hand having come up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he scowled with closed eyes, and the other hand holding his elbow, while he gave a quiet mutter of something sharp in Khuzdul. He maintained this stance for a long moment, until finally dropping his arms. There was no immediate eye contact, and I could tell he was still quite conflicted about the whole situation as he started to speak.

"Miss Hollander…"

The sound of approaching footsteps killed any kind of anything that was about to come out of Thorin's mouth, because apparently my life was made of appropriately-timed interruptions now.

"Ah, here they are!" came Kili's familiar voice, but from the boots, I could tell without even looking that his brother was probably with him.

With my back to them, I quickly snuck my sleeves up to my face and wiped off the excess tears before I turned around, though it wasn't nearly stealthy enough.

They slowed to a stop in front of us, picking up on the mood immediately, whether it was from my own troubled state or Thorin's. Fili was indeed with his sibling, glancing between their uncle and myself, his former casual smile waning a bit. "Everything alright?"

Keeping my eyes averted so I wouldn't draw attention to my blatantly watery eyes, I nodded and gave the worst fake smile ever, hoping they wouldn't ask. Of course, I was also hoping Thorin's promise would remain despite the insanity that I had just revealed.

There was nothing to be concerned about, it seemed. Though he was likely still very angry and confused, Thorin answered simply, for the both of us, "Aye. Was there something you needed?"

The brothers didn't quite appear convinced, but they didn't really want to stick their noses into the drama when it was obvious that neither of us wanted to share. Once they knew no explanation was going to be given, they answered.

"We were merely coming to remind you of lunch," Kili said. "The others have nearly finished already."

Ah, right. _'Thank you,'_ I signed briefly, staring at my hands instead.

"Of course. We wouldn't want our lady and our very own uncle to starve just because our companions have no patience when it comes to food," Fili tried to joke with us. The attempt at lightening the palpable foul mood they had walked in on was appreciated, but ultimately fell flat.

Thorin informed them in a dour way, "We'll be there momentarily."

The young Dwarves could notice a lost cause when they saw one, both of them nodding. However, I was just wondering what the hell Thorin meant by _we_.

There was a pause as the boys kept staring, making me uncomfortable.

"Your face! How did it heal so quickly?" Kili suddenly exclaimed, as if he had been trying to figure out what was different about me besides the watery eyes.

I was befuddled for a second, until I remembered what transpired while I slept last night. What was an easy answer to that? I thought for a moment, finally just saying, _'Elves.'_

With an 'oh' look, they nodded slowly, glancing at each other then back to us.

My ensemble seemed to also catch Kili's attention, causing him to ask, "You are planning to change before eating, yes?"

I looked down, remembering that I was still in my nightgown. While my hoodie made great coverage for the top half, I'm sure it was still some level of inappropriate to run around in night clothes here. No pajama parties in Middle Earth if you're a girl, I guess.

 _'I will go get dressed,'_ I said, sliding past the young princes before Thorin could object to my departure.

I didn't even try to pay attention as I fled to the guest room, tossing off my hoodie once I had the door shut behind me so I could toss off my nightgown as well. That niggling doubt was working its way back into my brain while I threw on my pants and my t-shirt, forcing me to stack a mental brick wall – I had already crawled my way back out of this exact same hole, dammit. I might fall back down it one day soon, but not right now. Ain't nobody got time for that shit.

 _Stupid Valar, stupid Middle Earth, stupid – stupid Thorin!_

If Thorin thought I was useless, then that was _his_ opinion. As long as I could still go on the quest, then it was irrelevant. He was probably going to hate me after we crossed the Misty Mountains, maybe even finally boot me from the Company, but that was _fine._ I'd just figure something else out. Bilbo _had_ to find the One Ring or everything was fucked regardless, so what Thorin thought of me didn't matter.

(But it totally did for some reason. I didn't want it to, but it did, because he was strong and brave and honorable, though maybe Not Great when it came to dealing with otherworldly explanations of fate and paths – again, who would be though – and in the end he just wanted to keep his family and friends safe. I wanted him to trust me because I was pretty sure I trusted him already, but did that mean I was naïve or he was just harder to befriend or both maybe? What difference did it make since he would probably _never trust me again, urgh yeah no don't think about that –_ )

Not that it mattered.

When I reached for my whistle to place back around my neck, I remembered that the cord was broken and I deflated a little. My brief steamroller mindset seemed to die a bit with this pause in movement. I put the whistle in the pocket of my sweats, feeling drained and honestly quite hungry, not even bothering to straighten out my bed head before leaving to join the others.

Of course, as Fili and Kili had said, most of them were already finished by then. The tables were in disarray, with plates and leftover vegetables scattered about in random places – the obvious sign that they had been here. The brothers themselves were downing the last remnants of some bread they had abandoned in order to come find myself and Thorin. Speaking of which…

There were all of four people left, once Fili and Kili departed as well. One of them was Thorin, one of them was me – who purposefully took a seat at the _other_ table – and the two seated next to each other between us were Ori and Dori.

"I told you it would taste fine with some vinegar," Dori said to his younger sibling.

Ori poked forlornly at the salad before him, like he didn't _want_ to like it, but couldn't really disagree. "I suppose…"

"See? Miss Jenna understands how important the greens are," Dori continued, gesturing to me briefly with his fork.

I gave a lame wave back with my own utensil, glancing at the Ri brothers.

Ori perked up a little, giving a smile as he said, "Your face looks much better, Miss Jenna. It's healed quite fast."

My own return smile was pitiful, but I tried.

Dori started mumbling something about Elf magic, and my eyes flicked past them unconsciously, connecting with the gaze of the last person in Middle Earth I wanted to think about right then. I rapidly returned my stare to the salad before me instead of Thorin.

With that motion, there was an awareness of the tension on the patio that hadn't been there before. It was obvious when Dori and Ori figured out something was up. They didn't say another word, eating a little too quickly, with the eldest brother ushering the other out of the area once they'd finished.

In my attempt to also scarf down my food and leave as soon as possible, I may or may not have choked on a cherry tomato. When I had to spit it back on my plate and cough a little, that was when I realized there was no saving this horribly awkward meal, and avoided all eye contact – even though I _know_ Thorin was staring at the idiot who just choked on a salad – as I left the vicinity in a rush.

* * *

"No, no, no – don't let go so late, or you'll wind up impaling your foot," Fili laughed, picking up the knife and handing it back to me again.

"Or you'll throw it backwards somehow," Kili murmured as he moved from behind where we were standing.

"Aye, brother – that's not the best place to be," agreed Fili.

We had been training for a while in the same yard as before, getting more practice with daggers in. Though we had still been using sticks for the actual fighting, another brief comment about throwing knives had brought about their sudden urge to try teaching me this, and to allow me to get familiar with the feel of a real dagger before trying to use it in combat. Throwing them was more for kicks than anything, as they prefaced the small side session with the fact that I should never throw away my weapon, because I would wind up basically giving it to the enemy and render myself defenseless.

"Or… _more_ defenseless," Kili had chuckled playfully, earning another stick chunked at his face.

The lesson was still interesting, even if my mood was rather off the whole time. I'm glad I at least had enough sense to change into boots again prior to practice, seeing as how the knife had slipped out from between my fingers several times now. There was a tree Kili had marked for us with an 'X', though honestly after several attempts, I barely even manage to hit the skinny tree at all, much less the specific mark.

With their usual astuteness, they knew I was still off my game. I was already uncoordinated, but the level of clumsiness I kept displaying was the result of something else.

When nothing had been said for a long while and evening was setting in, Kili spoke up, trying to sound casual. "So… What was it that you and Uncle talked about earlier?"

I purposefully tried to focus on throwing the knife rather than answering.

"It seemed important," he continued, seeming to think on what could possibly have upset me. "Are you still doing alright after what happened?"

Giving a small nod, I turned to offer him a look that conveyed that wasn't what was wrong.

Though Fili hadn't spoken while he retrieved the knife, he was paying close attention to the conversation and said when he came back, "Thorin appeared upset as well. Did the two of you have an argument?"

I bit my lip and scowled, throwing the knife a little harder. It still didn't stick to the tree.

"I shall take that as a yes," Fili murmured, going to get the dagger.

Kili then asked in slight perplexity, "What could you have possibly had a disagreement over?"

A little curtly, I told them, _'Quest things. Do not ask.'_

And so they didn't.

Dinner came around and with it, a few more comments on my face and its miraculous recovery, ultimately being chalked up to Elven healing spells. Oín asked after my arm, and I showed him the scar that remained, earning some raised bushy eyebrows. Like a true healer, he seemed impressed overall though, glad it was finally all fixed up, no matter who did the fixing.

With the entire Company there, it was luckily much harder to pick up on any stress between myself and Thorin as we ate. Though I did see Ori and Dori glancing in our directions every once in a while, and sometimes Fili and Kili, the affair went by without me choking on anymore tomatoes (thank God). No one else seemed to notice anything amiss with Thorin, his stoicism providing a shield against questions, and if they did notice, then they didn't connect it to my own charming levels of tetchiness.

After wards, Fili and Kili sparred a few rounds between themselves in the garden, and I watched for a bit, sitting crossed-legged on the grass. I was lazily tossing the knife into the ground directly in front of me and plucking it back up only to do it again, and I was still doing this when the princes called it quits for the night. Fili allowed me to hold onto his knife for now, though left with a light-hearted warning not to cut my finger off. I just rolled my eyes and gave a goodnight wave.

It was quiet without them, but that was alright. It's not like I wasn't used to silence by now anyway, eh? Eh?

As that dumb joke crossed my mind, I stood and tried throwing the knife at the tree again. While it was at least sticking to the tree for half a second sometimes, the blade would never stay – the angle was either wrong, or I wasn't throwing hard enough, or it spun too many times. The monotony of flinging and fetching would have been annoying if it wasn't such a good distraction, becoming borderline therapeutic.

Finally, on probably the thirteenth attempt since the boys left, the dagger hit the tree at a nice angle and stayed. It wasn't really close to the mark, but hell if I cared, raising my arms in sarcastic enthusiasm. Whoop-dee-freakin-doo!

There was a noise alerting me to someone else's arrival, and I turned hoping maybe Fili or Kili got back up because they forgot something so I could show them what I managed to do. However, it was neither, and I dropped my arms.

My victorious face fell upon spotting Thorin in the entranceway of the yard.

There was no immediate movement from either of us for a while. It felt like a weird stand-off, but with more glumness and less hostility, as neither party knew how to continue after the day's revelations and subsequent discourse. Eventually though, I averted my gaze and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, my unconscious signal for 'come on then, I guess'.

Whether due to my silent invitation or because he was tired of waiting, he made his way over, seeming calm enough, and I was looking everywhere but at him until he was only a few feet away. When I glanced up finally, we made eye contact for a brief second before he continued past me and to the tree. I was slightly confused when Thorin plucked the dagger from the bark and returned, until he offered the blade back to me, handle side facing my direction.

I stared at him for a moment, knowing this was some weird way of putting the ball back in my court, as it were. Or maybe just back on the court in general. I don't know – I was never good at sports. Regardless, it was a gesture of some kind that would mean peace again, so I wound up taking the knife anyway.

Nothing was said as I chucked the blade at the tree again and it stuck, retrieving it on my own this time before he had the chance. I could sense that going to get it myself created some sort of concern over whether or not the previous gesture had been wasted. When I came back to stand in front of him and offered the blade back in the same manner though, adding just a small quirk of my head to the side and questioning eyebrows, any worries about the situation were dismissed.

His expression was a little less strained as he gave a brief nod, accepting the proffered weapon. Staring at the tree ahead of us, Thorin appeared to measure the distance and the weight of the knife mentally for a second before also throwing, and while it impaled the tree, it was stuck much too high above the mark.

I turned to him and raised an unimpressed brow.

"A little rusty, it seems," Thorin responded coolly, and I gave a skeptical face. When I began to go get the knife again, he stopped me with a simple, "Miss Hollander."

I waited a good long moment before turning back to face him. Slouching a bit with indecision, I returned to my previous spot beside him, but couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes anymore. Staring at his boots was just fine, right?

"Jenna."

My gaze came up without my say so, and I couldn't tell if it upset me that he used my first name right now or if I actually liked hearing it in a non-panicked environment. Either way, it got my attention, and I assumed that was the point.

Thorin was composed but grave, like he had been thinking it over heavily since the conversation, as he said, "Admitting you knew the danger my Company would face, I see only risk that could have been prevented. Lives that were jeopardized needlessly due to your secrets."

I gave a single, morose nod, trying not to lower my stare to the ground again.

"I've asked for the truth countless times since first we set out, and if this _is_ your truth, so be it," he continued. "While I cannot say I entirely believe we are part of a storybook, I do believe you are here for a reason – and that you would not willingly put the others in a situation if you thought they would be harmed."

The environment relaxed just the tiniest amount, and I perked up at his words because yes. _'You are my only friends here,'_ I explained simply.

He paused at that, staring at my hands thoughtfully with an expression I couldn't quite figure out. Then he said a bit softly, "My earlier words were careless, and I apologize, but you must understand that my kin and this quest take priority above all else."

 _'Of course,'_ I replied in a placid way, just glad that he even apologized to me at all after what I'd done. I mean, calling someone useless kind of paled in comparison to endangering all of your companions knowingly, but that may have just been my opinion. A moment passed and a bit more hesitantly, I added, _'I am also sorry. I just… do not know what I am doing.'_

Again, Thorin seemed to consider something as he studied my face, measuring my sincerity and appearing to be alright with what he saw. "Before, I told you not to feel as though you must carry the responsibility of your mission alone. My offer still stands, but I cannot help if I do not know what your mission is," he told me.

I took a deep breath, hoping for this to go smoother than last time, as I signed apologetically as possible, _'I cannot tell you yet.'_

There were no actual words, with his eyes narrowing and his head shifting slightly – not in a suspicious way for once, but rather to question 'why not?'.

 _'The books,'_ I said in answer, wondering how to explain all this carefully and vaguely. _'Quest is only one book. There are other books that tell a story after some years pass. They take place in future. Because of those books, I know some events in quest cannot be changed, or Middle Earth will be… bad. Very bad. Very...'_ (Uh, how do I sign 'apocalyptic'?)

"In short, there would be consequences reaching farther than just this quest," Thorin summarized for me, catching on quickly enough.

I nodded, sobering a bit as I continued. _'I can… maybe tell more after we have crossed Misty Mountains.'_

"Why the Misty Mountains?" he asked with a slightly furrowed brow.

 _'Events that cannot be changed,'_ I told him again. The Dwarf before me started to look wary again at that, and before his frown could deepen, I assured, _'All of the Company will make it across Misty Mountains safe though.'_

My statement did the opposite of reassure him, instead insinuating that there was something to be concerned over. I caught this a little too late.

"Is something to happen in the mountains?" he questioned seriously.

I figured honesty with a bit of tip-toeing was the best bet right now, and said, _'A bit of stuff, but will be alright. My mission does not involve Misty Mountains.'_

Thorin was intelligent, able to see exactly what I was doing, though I don't know for whose sake it was that he chose to disregard it. "So when is it that your mission begins? May you at least tell me that?"

Nodding first, and then shaking my head while I answered, I said, _'Much much later. Do not worry now.'_

"You said before that you could not change our course before it was time," he recalled, then asked, "Will you tell me when that time comes?"

This one was a little harder, and I bit my lip as my eyes drifted to the grass for a second. _'I will tell only after I am done,'_ I decided, honestly kind of on the spot.

Giving a slight dip of his chin, Thorin exhaled as he said, "Very well."

The yard around us was quiet, even with the white noise of waterfalls and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. I glanced a few different directions, unsure of whether or not I should bring up a new topic, or if we were done and I was just being awkward. At the same time though, it was finally soaking in that someone else here knew the truth besides me, even if they only half believed it. With the tensions no longer flying high, it felt… nice. Better than nice.

I gave a long, slow sigh.

This earned a glance from Thorin, though he wound up looking away again as he wondered, "These books from your world; who wrote them?"

 _'J.R.R. Tolkien,'_ I replied simply enough.

"Though you claim your world has no such thing as wizards, are you certain he is not one?" Thorin asked.

A smile worked its way onto my face as I looked to him and said, _'I did not think so, but now I am not sure. Will never know though. Was gone before my time.'_

Another slight nod from Thorin. "Did he give the books titles of any sort?"

Obviously I answered yes with a nod of my own, signing, _'There were many different ones. The one with your quest is called The Hobbit.'_

I don't think I had ever seen Thorin's face turn so offended in such a short span of time.

The snuffles of light laughter from me were probably not helping, as I tried to explain with a halfway apologetic face, _'Bilbo is main character in book. I am sorry.'_

"Of course," Thorin muttered, before he turned to leave and looked at me, his volume returning to normal. "On that, I think I will retire for the evening."

My giggling had died down to just a regular smile thankfully and I signed a quick, _'Goodnight.'_

He paused long enough to give a nod that meant the same, then departed from the yard.

Once he was gone, I still had a bit of a smile on my face, glad that my decision to share the truth hadn't ended in catastrophe after all. Though it was a rough start, everything turned out fine. My heart felt lighter than it had since I got to Middle Earth, but I couldn't tell if it was because a little weight was off my back, or if it was because I kept thinking about that deep voice saying my name. Thorin taking time to talk things out with me, apologizing for what he said, trying to understand even when I'm sure I sounded like a lunatic…

I blinked a little, realizing I was still standing in the same place, a tiny flutter in my chest.

Suddenly I was no longer smiling.

 _Oh boy._

* * *

 **;)**

 **SO. What did we think? Not everything revealed quite yet, because what fun would that be, but we've got some things out in the open now.**

 **I've got to say this was probably the hardest chapter to write so far. Like, we all know Thorin has a temper at times, but it's just so difficult to work with in fanfiction? It would be so easy to make him just… never get mad and just be cool and badass, but that's not? Thorin? I mean, yes he's a badass, but also he has emotions? Strong ones? Especially concerning the safety of the ones he cares about? IDK I'M PROBABLY RAMBLING –**

 **Point is – This Chapter Was A Super Big Challenge and I definitely need feedback on this one. I feel like I say that every time, but dang if I don't mean it every time too. XD**

 **Sadly, I don't really think I'll be updating again before Christmas. I'll be getting married on the 16** **th** **, and moving in with my soon-to-be husband, plus I'll be dealing with Christmas itself and all the shopping and family gatherings, and then of course I work too, so YIKES.**

 **If there's no update, then I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. Stay safe and keep warm. :)**

 **Until next time!**


	24. The Sprout

_**First things first – The wedding was fantastic! It was literally perfect in every way I wanted, and I thank you all for your congratulations and well-wishes. I also wanted to thank you for being patient while I've been adjusting to my new life with my husband. It has its ups and downs, but I am happier and healthier than I've been in a long time. :)**_

 _ **Secondly – I swore to myself I would have this chapter out before the end of February, but uh… Well I mean, better late than never, I guess.**_

 _ **Thirdly – Replies!**_

 _ **Reply to**_ **SunnySides:** _ **We all know Thorin will be mad after the mountains. As for her saying anything about the Ring, you'll just have to see. ;) And I've heard that theory about the sickness before, I believe! It's always super interesting to hear thoughts on the One Ring and its effects on people.**_

 _ **Reply to**_ **Guest (Feb. 18):** _ **Tbh, I think your massive review is what helped spur me into finishing this chapter. I love how enthusiastic you are about Thorin and Jenna, and how hard you ship them. XD I've done that too with OCs in fics, where you just enjoy that pairing so much that it feels weird to ship them with anyone else. The fact that you feel that way about this fic makes me positively gleeful. And yes, her depression will definitely come into play again, just like it does irl. Unfortunately.**_

 _ **Anyways, you've all waited long enough.**_

 _ **Enjoy! :)**_

* * *

 **The Loudest Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

* * *

Again, I dreamed not of demon dogs, but of pleasant, vague memories. To anyone else, my dream would have been inane visions of a charismatic, dark-haired woman building a small city of Legos with her niece, but to me, it was yet another soft pat on the head telling me everything was going to be fine. It was another good night's sleep, and I mentally thanked Galadriel when I awoke, for I could only assume it was still her doing. However long these peaceful nights lasted, I would gladly take them.

There was a different dilemma, though, that I was busy worrying over instead of bad dreams.

It was like my radio was specifically tuned to the Thorin station that morning, and it troubled me how I reacted when he showed up for breakfast. I was already seated – thanks to Bofur's grace at waking me on time – and as Thorin sat a little ways away, next to Dwalin as usual, I was so aware of his presence. I mean, the King exuded a powerful presence regardless, but it was like my heartbeat decided to imitate a Salsa dancer when I made to meet his eyes.

I was so sure – like, 95 percent sure – my body's reaction was only because of yesterday's bean spillage. (It had to be, because the other option was dumb. We weren't even going to think about it.) He was the only one in the Company who knew the truth now and I was no longer alone in my knowledge; to an extent, anyway. Anyone would be excited to have a confidant after weeks of suspicion and secrecy. It was normal to feel giddy and restless over something like that, wondering what the other is thinking after such information was dropped.

I didn't even notice just how wound up I was until Thorin read it on my face. He responded to whatever look I was giving with a calm one of his own, and a slight nod of greeting, before he also began breakfast.

The message was clear enough: All was still well. He hadn't changed his mind in the middle of the night, or decided I really couldn't be trusted. To a bystander, his expression would appear as his regular stoicism, but I felt the reassurance for what it was and relaxed at the sight, a smile forming on my face from the tiny show of support. I felt so light. I hadn't been ostracized or labeled as a traitor. I just… couldn't wrap my head around it, honestly.

Seated across from me, Balin became aware of the little exchange of looks, glancing between myself and his King.

I caught this as I was dampening down my smile, trying to smother it further when I saw the expression he was giving me.

"Come to an understanding of some sort, I presume?" Balin guessed, taking another biscuit from the quickly dwindling platter.

When I nodded, the old goat seemed genuinely happy, and didn't press further, which made _me_ happy.

Over breakfast, Balin brought up my Iglishmêk. Even though I had improved by leaps and bounds out of my desperation to communicate, he said there were still plenty of things to learn, and I had to agree. While I could converse well, signing remained a stiff and formal process, so shortcuts and grammatical nuances were next on the agenda.

When the meal had finished, I stayed behind to work with Balin while the others departed. Of course, as Thorin stood from the table, I looked over to make sure we were still on the same page concerning the whole "story" thing, so to speak. There was still so much we had to talk about. I'm sure he had a metric ton of questions that I would wind up answering as best as I could, but I didn't feel afraid anymore. I was looking _forward_ to spending more time with him, whether his questions would skirt the dangerous or the mundane.

With eye contact came the mutual understanding that we would talk later, when things slowed down. It wasn't a demand or a request on either side, but a simple knowledge, and he left the veranda.

During the Iglishmêk lesson following the meal, we were joined by Kili and, needless to say, Fili stayed as well. It was more for support on his brother's behalf and to help us practice than for any real need to learn, of course. Kili was improving as well from what I could tell, but then again, I wasn't exactly an expert on the subject just yet. It was a grasshopper judging a grasshopper.

While the session was about as exciting as watching paint dry, Fili and Kili were particularly antsy throughout the whole thing. Though I didn't question their mood, it was still a relief when we wrapped up an hour or two later and the boys could stop fidgeting like they were about to miss the Super Bowl.

The two young Dwarves had already hopped up from their seats when I stood as well, glancing between them and Balin, finally making the silent inquiry with my eyebrows.

"Many of the Company decided the time for resting was over," Balin explained before the others as he got to his feet. "Need to stay in top form, the way things are headed."

"They're going to train in the yard soon and we thought we'd join them," Fili said, and paused, then suggested to me thoughtfully, "Come to think of it, you should join us as well. With you trying to learn how to defend yourself, it certainly couldn't hurt."

I nodded, hesitant at first, but then excitedly. That actually sounded like it would be fun to watch, and practical to boot.

As we began making our way to the unofficially designated training area, Kili smiled in a mischievous way, and added, "You don't want to miss out if Uncle and Dwalin spar. They're really the only two who are enough of a challenge for each other."

Balin made a face at that, hands on his hips. "Now, I think I'd be able to handle my own brother for a couple of rounds. Perhaps even Thorin if I was feeling particularly bold," he said, giving me a look that said he may have been teasing about that last part.

 _'I would like to see that,'_ I joked back.

"Oh, lass," he smiled wryly. "You have too much faith in – "

"Gandalf would have to shave about seventy years off you for that match to last more than a few minutes," Kili teased, cutting in.

The white-haired Dwarf pursed his lips, seeming none too amused by this statement, and said, "Luckily for you, I don't believe our wizard can command the hands of time."

Fili chuckled, saying, "Why don't we have Jenna ask the Valar to do it? Since it seems she's on speaking terms with them and all."

Kili gave a short laugh at that and clapped Fili's shoulder, quickly correcting, "Brother, she's not on _speaking_ terms with _anyone_!"

I rolled my eyes painfully hard and then turned to glare at the grinning brunette. _These jokes are quickly becoming staler than the bread I left in my apartment…_

When we arrived at the yard, I began counting heads and was surprised to find the whole Company had gathered (excepting Gandalf, but was he technically part of the Company? I mean, we never counted him in our number, so…). Uh, either way.

By some work of magic, Bofur had gotten Bilbo to tag along even though I'm sure fighting was the last thing on the Hobbit's mind – especially while he was surrounded by the Elven wonder that was Rivendell. Close by them were Bombur and Bifur, so I made my way over to the little group as Fili and Kili split off with Balin towards the more active looking half of the yard.

Several of the Dwarves had already brought out their weapons, either to clean or to use in training or both. Dwalin was inspecting his battle axes with a similar care that I'm sure a mother would employ when dealing with her children, while Gloín was also doing the same with his axe, and by this point, Fili and Kili had found their weapons in an organized pile nearby. I supposed the others had kindly brought them out while we were practicing Iglishmêk, making it all the easier for the boys to join in as soon as we had finished.

Of course, there was also Thorin standing out there, pretending Orcrist didn't have him totally enamored with each test swing of the curved blade. He had already used the sword during our run to Rivendell to chop down several foes, and though he tried hard to look unimpressed with its performance, we all knew.

Even without his long fur-lined coat twirling out with his movements, Thorin was still every bit as noble and imposing with a weapon. It was fascinating to watch, seeing as how the only other times he used a sword around me, I had kind of been preoccupied with my near-death trauma and sheer panic. He knew what he was doing, that much was obvious.

Seated next to each other on the grass, Bilbo and I watched the Company, neither of us knowing for sure what to do besides observe. The Ur family was nearby, with Bofur chatting animatedly to his kin even if they had little to say back. After a while though, Bilbo readjusted slightly, and it took me a moment to realize he was looking down at the item he'd brought to the yard; his short Elven sword, Soon-To-Be-Sting, still in its sheath. Oh? Did he intend to practice?

I smiled softly when he sniffed in consternation, his nose giving a little wiggle.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that my attention was on him and he sat up a little straighter, looking back out to the yard, faking nonchalance as he said, "It's a shame I've no skill with this sort of thing – it's just a lovely sword and yet I'll likely never use it."

My chin dipped as my lips went into a straight, tight line. Yeah okay, sure, buddy.

This expression didn't go without notice, obviously, and Bilbo questioned, "You believe otherwise?"

Shrugging, I gestured vaguely to one of the distant mountain walls protecting us. I then bared my teeth in imitation of a growl while bringing up my two index fingers next to my mouth, curled like fangs.

"I do suppose you have a point…" Bilbo sighed, a tiny frown forming. "There's no telling what will happen once we leave Rivendell, with those – those _things_ after us."

Er... The doubt creeping its way into his tone made me spread my hand towards the garden, reassuring him with the scene before us. In case he had forgotten, we were travelling with some of the hardiest (and hairiest) dudes known to Middle Earth.

Bilbo's confidence in our chance at survival seemed to boost slightly for the time being, satisfying me.

Kili was getting in some simple target practice with a distant tree, and Fili had joined his uncle in a light sparring session, and Dwalin had taken Gloín up on some combat as well. Dori had also begun to look over his strangely shaped sword, though to be honest, I didn't even know he had one, and Nori was lackadaisically messing around with some small knives. Ori had come to sit on the other side of Bilbo ages ago, not even really into the weapons thing.

I tried to watch everyone and take in the multiple fighting stances they practiced, the different weapons, and how to use them, but my attention kept going back to Thorin and Fili. Though he was still stern, there was a lightness to Thorin's expressions while interacting with his nephew; small smiles and crinkles at the edges of his eyes. I could tell he wasn't going all out in this warm-up of sorts, but that didn't mean he wasn't exerting himself. Fili was a talented fighter, having learned from the best, after all, and I knew one day he would be just as experienced as his uncle.

I had to admit, the whole thing was kind of super adorable – though I doubt they would appreciate me calling any aspect of their combat 'adorable' – but it shot more flutters into my stomach, which I quickly excused as normal. Anyone would think happily of such a scene.

They paused in their fighting to look over when Dwalin toppled Gloín, a few of the crew getting a good laugh when the latter blamed it on the sound of a poorly-played flute somewhere distracting him. As Gloín stood again, I could indeed hear the faint music that had simply become background noise at this point.

Shortly after that, things were switched around a little bit, with Dwalin challenging Thorin in a good tussle. I had never seen them just flat-out not use weapons, choosing to 'wrestle' in this instance. It seemed like a very Dwarvish thing to do. Or maybe just a guy thing, even.

Either way, it attracted attention, and the others chose this time to take a break and watch. Their illustrious leader and his right hand man having a ball just trying to pin the other for more than a few seconds was amusing to them, though I was kind of cringing the entire time. It wasn't like they were actually getting hurt or anything – quite the contrary, as Thorin and Dwalin looked to be in great spirits no matter who was getting thrown down. I was just a big weenie.

"You two've not seen very many fights, have you?" Bofur piped up from behind us.

Bilbo and I turned, glancing at one another, and I saw the Hobbit had a very similar face as I did after the last takedown. I realized Bofur was addressing both of us, so I shook my head.

"The same for me," Bilbo answered, taking a peek back to where Thorin officially had Dwalin down for the count. "Brawling is not exactly a popular – ah, pastime in the Shire."

From his seat near his cousins, Bifur grumbled, "Makkashúl," with an accompanying sign that I was able to make out as a sarcastic, _'Surprise.'_

I snorted a laugh, getting the gist of what he was saying, and his eyes seemed to light up a bit at the partial recognition of his statement.

"Be nice, Bifur. Not all of us are the fightin' sort," Bofur threw out casually, a smile cropping up at the interaction.

"Who's not the fighting sort?" asked Kili, coming over with his brother.

"Hobbits. Hobbits are not the fighting sort," Bilbo answered a little sharply.

Kili had one hand on his hip, lazily throwing out the other hand to gesture to me, "Well neither is she, really, but that's not stopping her from trying to learn how to protect herself. No offense."

I shrugged it off. Truth.

Bilbo stared at Kili for a long moment, like he was thinking really hard about something, and then he turned his gaze to me. I shrank back a little uncertainly.

A few seconds passed before he stood from his spot. "Alright then," Bilbo said, sighing so quietly that I think I was the only one who heard him. "It couldn't hurt to… learn a few things. I suppose. If you're willing to teach them."

"Of course. It would our pleasure," Fili responded for the both of them, seeing as how he would more than likely be the one doing the teaching.

He gestured for Bilbo to hand him the Elven sword, so he could take a look at it. Unsheathing the blade, Fili weighed it in his hand before glancing around the garden, spotting a tree. I knew exactly where this was going and within a few minutes, Bilbo was standing across from Fili, armed with a stick the same length as his sword.

While Fili got started on showing Bilbo a few things, Kili came closer and asked if I would like to go a round or two with him using our trusty sticks. I took him up on the offer, of course, though felt very self-conscious when I got out further into the garden. Everyone was either watching me or Bilbo, since Thorin and Dwalin had finished, and I found myself unable to concentrate. We weren't exactly the best follow-up after trained warriors.

"Jenna, come on now," Kili said with some amount of disappointment. "You were doing much better than this before."

I shrugged helplessly, not wanting to tell him why I was doing poorly. It was only the Company watching, for Pete's sake. I had walked out in front of them without pants before, so why was this bothering me?

Oh, right. I didn't want them to see my bad knife skills and think I was useless. Bad as in actually _bad_ , in this case.

Speaking of terrible fighting skills, I glanced over several times to check in on how Bilbo was doing. This distraction probably contributed to part of my awful practice during this time, as well.

Fili and Bilbo went through very similar stances as what I had been put through, with minor adjustments since Bilbo would be working with a sword and not a dagger, no matter how small said sword was. The poor Hobbit just looked so terribly awkward throughout it all, and I was beginning to think maybe there really was a reason Hobbits didn't fight. Especially when he was practicing a cutting motion too fast with too loose of a grip, and the stick was flung backwards, smacking an unsuspecting Ori in the face.

"Ow! My eye!" Ori yelped.

As Dori flocked over to his little brother, I cupped a hand over my mouth at the situation, meeting Bilbo's mortified gaze before he awkwardly stepped over also, his hands balled up at his sides as he asked if Ori was alright.

The young Dwarf was rubbing his eye, but said, "I'll be fine in a minute. Just caught me off guard, is all."

"Maybe you shouldn't let your guard down while we're training then," Dori warned, somehow both scolding and caring. He was good at that double-layered tone.

"I am terribly sorry, Ori," Bilbo apologized profusely for the umpteenth time, well aware that he had likely sparked some ire from multiple sources.

As Ori was reassuring Bilbo that everything was alright and that he wasn't going to go blind, I caught sight of one of those sources, some meters away. Even from a slight distance, Thorin's rigid opinion of the Hobbit remained obvious as ever, certainly not helped by a stick flying into the eye of his Company scribe. Ori was fine, though – But thank the deities that it hadn't been the actual letter opener, or I don't think quick forgiveness would have been on the menu.

Like he sensed an appraisal of his attitude coming from somebody, Thorin glanced my way. I didn't try to hide the fact that I'd been watching his sour frown, in fact making it more obvious that I had been staring on purpose.

 _'All have to start somewhere,'_ I signed to him a little more subtly than usual, my stick held under my arm to free my hands. I kept my expression light in the hopes that I could diffuse some of his bristling, though most of others were too busy watching the Ori situation to notice our exchange anyway.

To say that my attempt to calm Thorin worked would be a gross overstatement, though he did look seconds away from aiming a biting remark towards Bilbo before. In response to my placid words, Thorin's grimace merely shifted in tone, down-stepping from a loathing of the Hobbit to the usual dissatisfaction with him instead.

I tilted my head slightly with a half smile, in a sort of, 'Thanks for not blowing up over a twig' kind of way.

Thorin gave a look that made me believe he was thinking about the absurdity of the book title again, then he glanced at Bilbo once more and turned away altogether.

Baby steps. That whole… _thing_ would work itself out eventually. As it was meant to. I hoped. Like I didn't have enough on my plate, I didn't need the responsibility of structuring out friendships as well.

After that, things seemed to wind down a bit. The Company had gotten in a few hours of training at least, with lunch creeping up quickly, and after the flying stick fiasco, the steam was lost anyway. Everyone who brought out their weapons packed them away again, returning them to their little camping area before it was time for food.

I took care to engage Bilbo a little at lunch, as he seemed down since he had promptly given up training as soon as Ori had been poked in the eye. Seeing as how Bilbo couldn't speak Iglishmêk, though, really all I could do to begin things was smile and wave as I sat next to him, letting his own nature take its course.

He gave a tight-lipped smile back, a miniscule sigh barely slipping out before he said quietly, "I really don't know what happened. One moment the stick is in my hand, and the next – why, I always knew my grip wasn't anything to boast of, but…"

My abrupt patting on his shoulder caused him to trail off, and I shook my head with a face that told him it was no big deal. The Dwarves around us were back to their usual selves, and I glanced around with purpose to show him that nobody was holding grudges. I looked Ori's way, barely half a table from us, and the scribe perked up when he noticed our attention was on him.

Ori smiled and gave a small wave with his fork, to which Bilbo seemed to relax on sight of as he waved back.

Once we had all departed from the lunch table, in thanks for the effort to cheer him up, Bilbo offered to show me some interesting areas that he had found on his wanderings. I gladly welcomed the break from Iglishmêk, and training, and just the overall drama since Rivendell was truly a gorgeous place and I enjoyed getting to spend time with my Hobbit friend. Every little decoration seemed to spark liveliness in him that was similar to the interest he'd shown in the topic of Elves when he had spoke about them at the start of our journey. Prior to being shut down by my abrupt wet willy, that was.

Bilbo took me to one of the higher balconies that had a beautiful – and terrifying – view of the majority of Imladris. When he noticed my discomfort at the height, he promptly chose to show me some cute gardens instead.

A while later through our walk, closer to evening, Bilbo asked if it was alright if he split off to go to the library before dinner, and of course it was fine, but I continued to wander on my own. Once I had started marveling at the architecture, I couldn't really stop. The hallways I wound through were more shaded, the tilt of the afternoon sunlight unable to reach the half of the building I was in, making it slightly cool in temperature. It felt great. Chill, but not cold.

I hadn't really, truly explored Imladris, partially because there hadn't been an appropriate time and partially because I was afraid of wandering into an Elf's room by accident. It's not like the residential area had a sign or anything, and I couldn't read Sindarin anyway, so I had to be careful of my manners.

Back home, of course I owned the extended editions of the Hobbit movies. It didn't matter that in order to buy them I had to skip out on a few groceries here and there, because _extended editions._ (My priorities have always been a little whack.) This being said, I knew that the Dwarves were going to use a gigantic water fountain to skinny dip in eventually. I just didn't know when. Or where it was. I hadn't seen any sign of that fountain the entire time we had been there, and I assumed that if they were going to use it, they would have already done so, and I wouldn't have to worry about accidentally finding it at the wrong time.

No, nah, of course not.

I didn't go looking for the fountain on purpose, obviously, though in hindsight it made perfect sense that the Company would be there. They had been training all day and sweating, so a nice cool bath would be in perfect order. Just, not in a bath tub.

I heard water and lots of hollering, but that wasn't abnormal. Rivendell had tons of waterfalls and pools and things, and with the Company here, random 'hollering' was common. However, it didn't really occur to me what I might stumble upon until after I had rounded a corner, stepping outside to see a giant water fountain built into the mountain side. It was architecturally very pretty and I'm sure some Elves worked very hard to get it looking so nice, but I'll be honest – I was kind of distracted by the all the _naked Dwarves_ splashing about.

Oops.

To say I backpedaled quickly is an understatement. I was hoping desperately, as I ducked my head and nearly tripped over myself to get back in the doorway, that none of the guys had seen me. Even though, y'know, I _definitely_ saw them. Oh my god, had I seen them. Thank goodness the fountain wasn't closer to the building or I would never have been able to meet their eyes ever again.

My face was already an absolute simmering mess as I fled, but then I turned down a hallway too sharply. With my head down, vision aimed the floor, there was no stopping the collision until both my hands were already flying up instinctively, slapping the bare chest of the person in front of me with a wet _'smack'_. Their hands had automatically come up in the crash as well, helping to steady me with a light grip on either of my arms without really thinking about it.

When I looked up, I… I blanked.

Thorin was also taken aback my sudden appearance, eyes a bit wider than usual, plainly not expecting to see me in this area. I probably looked like some kind of pervert, scurrying away from the fountain in such a hurry, my face having summoned all the blood in my body to form an incredibly damning blush.

It was obvious he had been swimming with the others at some point. His wavy hair was soaked, dripping down into the curls of his chest hair and onto… my hands. Oh – oh my _godohmygod –_

I seriously thought I would die on the spot when I realized my palms were still planted on his exposed pecs. Thorin seemed to realize this at the same time I did, letting go of my arms as we took a good step back from each other, me hastily pulling my hands from his person and wiping the water on my sweats like it would get rid of the feeling of his warm chest, too. That was the _last_ thing I needed to memorize the feeling of right now.

There was some measure of mercy in the world at least, relief flowing through me when I saw in my peripheral that he was indeed wearing pants, unlike the others that were still in the fountain. My eyes had flown to a nearby wall, and I honestly – _really_ – did try to keep my gaze averted, but I also noticed several things about Thorin's person that caught my attention (besides the… rippling muscles… and the strong arms… Oh, Mahal knew what he was doing when he made this one. Yep.).

Firstly were the scars. It made so much sense that he had them, but actually seeing physical evidence of the battles he had fought and the tough life he had lived was oddly humbling. There were many small marks scattered about – on his chest, arms, stomach. Then there were the few larger, more prominent scars that interfered with the dark fuzz in some places that I'm sure had stories behind them.

Secondly were the tattoos. One was placed squarely upon his left breast, the angular profile image of a raven made of the sharp patterning so familiar to Dwarves. Its wing was stretched out towards Thorin's shoulder in flight, and there was a royal sigil on its side that I recognized from the belt buckle he usually wore. The other tattoo wound around his right bicep. It was bolder, with a symbol on the outside that looked like a crown, several pointed stars hovering above it. Even without being able to count all of them going around his arm, I knew there were seven.

My eyes were glued to the wall again immediately afterwards, as all of these observations took place in a matter of seconds. It was hardly enough to be considered ogling, and probably no more time than it took Thorin to avert his own gaze back in Bree, but when that particular memory surfaced once more, an impishness came over me that I didn't know I could have in such a situation, allowing my embarrassment to meld into something closer to amusement.

There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by Thorin clearing his throat. He had collected himself again just fine, calmly giving a greeting of, "Miss Hollander."

I pursed my lips, nodding in return.

"Was there something you needed?" he asked.

My gaze darted over to his face briefly, very deliberately avoiding the other parts of him, as I shook my head and said, _'Took a wrong turn.'_

His chin lifted slightly in an almost-nod.

More silence, filled only by the background noise of our companions splashing around.

That was also about when we heard wet footsteps from behind me.

"Thorin, I swear either of those two lands on my head again, you aren't gonna have anymore heirs left by the time we – !" came the grumbling call of Dwalin, before he actually rounded the corner from the same direction I had come, and cut off when he spotted me.

I didn't turn to look, instead glancing at Thorin with slightly wide eyes.

The King easily took in the silent question I was throwing him. Thorin barely moved his head, just enough to peek around me at Dwalin, before the corners of his eyes creased with the vaguest hint of mirth as he looked back to me. A small shake of his head was all the answer I needed. _Dwalin wasn't wearing pants._

A part of my soul ascended as I shoved my face into my hands.

"We forgot to warn the lass after lunch, didn't we?" Dwalin realized, but I could hear the amusement in his tone.

"Aye," Thorin said. "We did." There was an airiness there that was half apology on my part and half poking fun at the situation, before his propriety got the better of him and he tacked on a, "Dwalin" that obviously meant, 'Go put some pants on or something.'

I stuck up a hand before anyone left, waving it and shaking my head nonchalantly to get the point across that I was leaving anyway and they didn't need to stop their fun on my behalf.

However, that little devil in the back of my mind wouldn't let me go yet. As I made my way past Thorin, I cheekily angled myself to sign to him – without looking in Dwalin's direction – promptly throwing him under the bus.

 _'We are now even for Bree.'_

I couldn't tell if Thorin was embarrassed I had brought that up again or annoyed or both, but his face was worth it.

From down the hall a few seconds after my departure, I heard the question from Dwalin, "What'd she mean by that?" and couldn't help my snuffles of mischievous giggling as I scurried away. If Thorin replied, I didn't hear it.

Only later, once I reached my guest room, did I allow myself to become a little self-conscious and question my sanity. A month ago, maybe even just a _week_ ago, I never would have dreamed of saying something like that to Thorin. Did simply telling him about the story really lighten my shoulders that much? Or was my growing comfort around Thorin finally just allowing me to behave as casually with him as I did the others? Perhaps it was both.

Not long after I had bathed for the evening, getting ready for dinner, Nadri stopped by. My hair was still thoroughly wet when she knocked on the door and I opened it for her, probably looking like a scraggly puppy.

"I came to ask if you would like your garments to be cleaned again," she explained politely. "We could not help but notice you all were practicing in the gardens today."

Oh. Well, I didn't really get too dirty or anything, but… I glanced down at my clothes and shrugged, nodding. It couldn't hurt to have them washed again, especially since we were heading out in only two days.

That thought shook me a little. We were leaving the safety of Rivendell in two days.

 _Just, uh… Don't think about it,_ I told myself as I handed over my clothes, having Nadri help me put on another corset thing for dinner while my bra was being laundered. I was loaned the same pale blue dress that I wore my first evening there, and it still fit just as awkwardly, but at least I was more mentally stable this time. I'd had a few days to process my encounter with the satanic kennel club and made my decision about the journey so my guilt wasn't eating me alive anymore. _That_ certainly helped.

When I showed up for dinner though, I was abruptly reminded of what I'd said to Thorin earlier.

I tried to play it off like I wasn't concerned that I had overstepped some line with my teasing, but upon making eye contact with him sitting at the table, my air of playfulness turned into something more sheepish.

Thorin didn't _seem_ to be upset. I mean, until Dwalin saw and started snickering, causing Thorin to look at him in a way that could probably slay a lesser being. This lead me to assume Thorin had allowed Dwalin the knowledge of what transpired in the Prancing Pony, though blessedly, I doubted he went into any detail about it.

Either way, Thorin's ire wasn't aimed at me, so I skedaddled to my seat in blissful innocence while the gettin' was good.

Dinner was just as meatless as every other meal we'd had around here, leaving me craving a cheeseburger more than I ever had in my entire life, and there were a few comments about my being back in the Elven dress during supper as well. I found myself having to assure them it wasn't just because I suddenly liked the finery. (Not that I would have minded cute dresses one bit, had the Elves only had a _goddamn plus option._ )

 _'Clothes are being cleaned,'_ I told those at my table who were interested.

Bofur clicked his tongue smugly, saying, "Ah – ye see? Knew she wasn't turnin' rogue on us."

"Speaking of turning rogue," came Nori's conspiratorial muttering, "we were gonna cook up more of those sausages tonight, after this farce of a dining experience. You in?"

I nearly turned starry-eyed at the prospect, seeing as how the last time we had meat, my appetite hadn't been the best. Nodding immediately, I earned a laugh from Nori at the look of yearning on my face.

"Bring your glass, too," he added lowly, side-eying an Elf that passed our table.

I wasn't sure why, but brought my drinking glass anyway when we slowly relocated our gathering to the guest area the Company was occupying. The mystery was solved when Nori rolled a massive barrel from nowhere and suddenly wine was being distributed, though I had an odd feeling the Elves weren't privy to this information.

 _'Where did this come from?'_ I asked Balin off to the side of the room, trusting his judgment on the situation.

The concern was apparent in my entire posture, and his reply eased some of my uncertainties about the borrowed wine. "Don't worry your head over it too much, lass," he reassured me. "If it eases your mind, we'll reimburse 'em for their provisions once we've got our shares from the mountain. For now, one barrel will hardly be missed."

That made sense, I supposed, and I let it drop. Up until this point, I had only ever taken a few sips of the strong Elvish wine during our meals, knowing full well what it could do to an inexperienced partaker, but I finally let myself enjoy it that night. We would be back on the road in no time and the likelihood of my demise was high, so might as well get turnt at least _once_ in Middle Earth.

The little camping nook was a cacophony of laughter and people talking over each other, then joining conversations with the ones talking over them. I found a spot in the almost-circle around the fire (it was really too disorderly to be considered a circle), using what I believed to be Fili's bedroll to sit on, doubling it up to act as a cushion. It was confirmed to be his spot when the blonde came back from getting a refill of wine only to find me planted on his sleeping bag.

I shrugged with a cheap smile and then stuck my tongue out, not willing to budge.

Fili gained an air of mischievous payback, grabbing one of the decorative Elven pillows strewn about instead and tossed it almost on my leg. I barely had time to scoot over enough to where he didn't land on me when he plopped down, throwing a smirk of victory over his shoulder, one of his braids nearly whacking me in the face with his sudden turn.

I gave him a tiny shove of mock anger, trying not to slosh my wine everywhere. This was made almost impossible by the fact that his brother chose that moment to _also_ sit down next to me, on the other side, officially squashing me between them.

Judging by their simultaneous laughter at the look on my face, they thought this was the epitome of comedy.

They eventually scooted outwards a little bit and offered me some actual room over the course of the evening, though I think this may have been due to their constant movement while talking. We each had a few sausages – I enjoyed mine far more than I probably should have – and whenever I needed more wine, I just sent my cup over with either Fili or Kili, depending on who was getting up.

I had been vaguely aware of Thorin the entire time, of course, because why would life be easy. He was seated with Balin and Dwalin – shocker – on the outer edge of the circle, enjoying wine as the rest of us were. When Thorin stood and excused himself, my irritating radar went off to let me know that Mister Majestic was on the move.

I suppose my awareness of his presence was handy in this instance, for when I glanced around a few moments later, wondering where he'd gone, I located him standing next to an archway in the hall. Well, not just standing I realized, but waiting. I could tell this from the way he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, though his manner didn't come across as impatient.

Our eyes met and I suddenly remembered our 'silent agreement' to talk later tonight. And I guess it was technically later. I turned back to look down at my glass of wine briefly, trying to remember how many I'd had. Was this my fourth? Or third? Er… fifth?

Yikes.

Standing up wasn't too terrible; it was simply an exercise in maintaining balance when the ground felt a little too wobbly to be made of stone. I think I managed to make it look more nonchalant than the effort actually was though. Hopefully.

This wasn't the first time I'd had a few drinks, since my birthday was in June and I had been of the legal age for almost a year now (and it hurt my head to try and figure out if time was moving the same as back on regular Earth, so I stopped that train of thought prematurely. That was a conundrum for Sober!Jenna). Most of the alcohol I'd had was few and far between, in the privacy of my own home, and though I had been out drinking with Hazel as a belated birthday celebration once (because it was difficult for her to make it on my actual birthday), it hardly counted as extended experience. Drinking with your whacky best friend at TGI Friday's was a little different than drinking with an exiled Dwarf king in a fantasy realm.

Again, yikes.

While Thorin had long ago finished with his own beverage, I approached him with my glass in hand regardless, knowing that if I left it, the thing would be either empty or broken when I got back. I smiled a bit and inclined my head, glancing down the hallway and back at him to signal I would follow if he still wanted to talk. He gave his own slight nod before dropping his crossed arms and stepping away from the wall.

We didn't go that far from the Company; just took a few hallways to find an unoccupied veranda with a bench. It overlooked a simple, dark little garden with a creek running beside it, probably flowing to join the waterfalls, and the sconces on the back wall of the balcony itself were already lit, fortunately for us.

Thorin waited for me to take a seat on the right side of the stone bench before doing the same on the left. While we weren't overly close to each other, the proximity was comfortable and the silence was calm. Odd, considering the last time we were this close was a mere handful of hours prior and he had been intensely _shirtless_.

 _Way to go, Jenna. You weren't thinking about it, and now you definitely are. Thanks,_ I scolded myself internally. My cheeks were already a little warm from the alcohol. As if I needed help making them more so.

Thorin seemed a little less… severe, than I expected him to be. We had come out here to speak of the story, I assumed, but he wasn't as tense as he normally would have been before bringing up my plethora of secrets. It wasn't necessarily anything specific he was doing that gave me this impression, just the way he held himself. The way his face wasn't so creased in the places that generally spoke of his stress. Maybe it was just the wine helping him chill a little bit, too, like it was me.

Except he could handle it a teeny bit better.

I realized I was staring at Thorin like a doof when he glanced over and I blinked a few times, looking down at my glass instead. No, wait, looking away was going to be even more suspicious, so I turned my head back towards him.

He gave a huff through his nose that was almost a laugh, causing me to frown a little in confusion, but this only appeared to amuse him further. It took me a second to understand what was funny and I became slightly embarrassed.

I set my glass down beside me on the bench, turning back to face Thorin so I could sign sheepishly and a bit slowly, _'I do not drink often.'_

"Clearly," he replied, his tone suggesting he had noticed this quite a while ago.

My automatic reaction was to say, _'Sorry.'_

Thorin looked at me strangely, starting to notice I said that quite a bit. "You do not have to apologize."

 _'But you want to know more,'_ I squinted at my hands, trying to remember the right gestures while my head felt a bit floaty. _'About things? And I am…'_

"Do not feel guilt for enjoying what little time we have left here," he told me, pacifying my worry over being a little tipsy. "It's true that I have questions. However, I have thought it over many times since yesterday, and if what you said is to be believed, then you know more than any what awaits us."

Ugh… Yeah, that I did. I stared straight ahead into the abyss for a moment, completely still as I recalled what was to come. Goblins, Giant Spiders, Azog, Elves… and more Wargs. My nose wrinkled. Quickly snagging my drink from the bench and taking a giant gulp said more than I ever could have.

Thorin gave a long sigh at my obvious anxiety and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the garden below. "How reassuring," he muttered, introducing me to a level of sarcasm I didn't know existed. Eventually, his gaze came back my direction as he asked, "The road ahead is truly so upsetting?"

Staring down at my glass cradled in the middle of my chest, I shrugged in a wishy-washy way, my head wobbling to convey that I wasn't sure how to put it. On one hand, yeah, the Company was to go through tons of danger and gruesome scary things that would likely give me more nightmares, but nobody _dies_ on the trip. No. That was only later. On the other hand, a few of them were going to get injured (Thorin himself, for one) and anything could happen. Anything could change because of my presence, like what happened with Gavin and Jean.

"And you're certain you cannot tell me why?" Thorin questioned. While he was being quite patient, all things considered, it still didn't make a lot of sense on his end. "You cannot say what worries you about the future of this quest?"

After sipping my drink more, I set it down again and took a long, deep breath, exhaling a little shortly. It wasn't irritation at him or anything, it was more of me just trying to find the right thing to say. In the end, my answer was still a simple, _'Not yet.'_

It was obvious he expected as much, turning back to the garden after watching the response from my hands. His discontent with my answer remained, visible in the way his shoulders were too tense, and the way his nostrils flared when he breathed to calm himself. Something about Thorin's actions told me he didn't _want_ to be angry right now. Was he really just trying to chill tonight? That thought was almost laughable. The dude was stress incarnate – he ran off of stress. If he wasn't stressed, I figured he would just poof out of existence.

Still, it bothered me that I couldn't reassure him somehow. Thorin had done so much for me already. He had been patient through my secrecy, saved my life, comforted me, carried me to _bed_ – as weird as that one was to think about. He had humored my pinky promises, no matter how stupid they must seem to him, and even when I admitted to knowing of the bloody trolls and wargs and orcs, he kept my secret.

My hand began moving on its own, careful and hesitant. I don't even think I realized what I was doing until I was pressing the hand softly on Thorin's sleeve, giving a gentle squeeze to the mid part of his arm. He turned his head in mild surprise, and I met his blue eyes with all my shutters open, with as honest of an expression as I knew how to give.

We stayed that way for a moment. I didn't want to take my hand from his arm, but I had to, fingers reluctantly sliding from the fabric so I could calmly tell him, _'Not yet. But one day.'_

He watched the motions of my words, taking them in before he looked back to my face. A search for any sign of deception ensued, as was his way, and he found nothing untoward in my eyes because there _was_ nothing. I literally just wanted to help.

I was hopeful when Thorin gradually adjusted to sitting up straighter again, glancing at my shoulder. The tiny mountain made of ink was poking out above my dress sleeve.

"Why did you choose such a tattoo?" he asked, purposefully guiding the topic elsewhere.

This earned a small smile of thanks from me, and I answered thoughtfully, _'I like maps and… I liked this story.'_

Thorin seemed off-put when I referenced the quest as a story again, as if he wanted to believe only certain aspects of my truth. Me just knowing the future was simply more plausible than me knowing the future because it was written out in a book somewhere. "What about the… _story_ did you enjoy?" he questioned, seeing if my answer would give away the end result of their endeavor. Maybe I liked it because of a happy ending or something.

Thankfully I caught this, even in my state, giving him a lightheartedly dubious look to make it obvious that I noticed.

The microscopic tilt of his head and the gentle quirk of his brows conveyed that 'I had to try at least once more' look. It almost came across as teasing.

I shook my head a little, my smile growing when I finally replied to why I liked the story with, _'The adventure.'_

"Adventure?" Thorin asked, less impressed, like it trivialized their entire mission.

Nodding, I continued to explain fondly regardless. _'My aunt… got me the book when I was little. I did not get to go far from home a lot, so we would play in the yard like… we were going to Erebor.'_

Expression relaxed again, Thorin became further interested upon this mention of his home.

 _'The journey was what I liked most, because of all that is seen,'_ I said, having to stop myself from mentioning when Aunt Laura would pretend to be a giant eagle and I would ride on her back. That would raise a few questions I couldn't answer right now. Instead, I mused with a wry face, _'It is very different when you are really on this journey.'_

"Indeed. A story it may be in your world, but here it is not," he cautioned softly, though still seemed curious about something. "You may very well lose your life on this _adventure_ , Miss Hollander."

 _'I know,'_ I said, huffing a bit at his inflection in the last part. _'I am not going for fun.'_

"Why then?" he asked.

I paused, staring at him as I tried to understand. Why… what? Why help them? Was that really a question right now? My face had to have shown my bafflement at the inquiry. _'Because it is the right thing to do. You want to go home, want a good place for your people. Is that not enough?'_

The way Thorin was looking at my hands told me no, that wasn't enough – nobody just did things because they were the 'right' thing to do. He didn't bother saying as much though, so I continued.

 _'Your quest… Made me feel brave, when I was... not.'_ Ugh, how was I supposed to explain how many times _The Hobbit_ inspired me to keep going? How many times I found encouragement through Thorin's determination? How was I supposed to explain _depression_ without just making it sound like I got sad a lot? Maybe one day I would be okay with telling him about all that, but I didn't want to come across as weak right now. I finished instead by saying, _'You have done so much, worked hard. You make… others want to do the same. You are a great leader.'_

Still watching my hands, the corner of Thorin's lip quirked as my words ended. He was smiling a little, though I could tell it was not about what I had said specifically when he also signed, _'Great.'_

Confused, I started to sign, _'Great'_ again.

Midway through, Thorin carefully reached over, readjusting the angle of my hands with a look of amusement. When his fingers gently slid away with a brush, I almost forgot what I was even supposed to be signing.

"What you had before was 'goat'," he said, a smirk still playing on his face.

Goat leader. Awesome.

I snorted, a grin of my own cropping up. The stuttering of my heart over the small contact was silly, somehow worse when the touch was on purpose and not on accident (like my paws on his bare chest earlier, for one), but I ignored it in favor of laughing at my signing mistake.

Thorin was also humored for a good while after, the conversation coming to a pause as we remembered where we were before goats got involved. I took another sip of my wine as I waited, letting Thorin think on his next words. The longer the pause went on, though, the more his smile seemed to fade into his usual solemnity, and I set my drink down again to show my full attention.

"While it is flattering you believe me to be a _great_ leader," he said, a slight lilt on the word I had gotten wrong, "It leaves me to question the verity of your book."

I frowned in the slightest, giving a tilt of my head.

In explanation, Thorin said, "I have merely done what I must in order for my people to survive, Miss Hollander. They've been dealt hardship and grief beyond measure – and there is now hope to secure a promising future for them in Erebor. So, I will continue to do what I must, for that is what leaders do. It does not make them great."

 _'Many leaders… do not think that way,'_ I told him, more careful with my Iglishmêk forms, but also more tentative. _'Many would not risk their life for their people and put… themselves first.'_

Thorin had a slight scowl. "Then they are not leaders; they are fools," he remarked. "If your people do not come first, then you will lose them. A leader means nothing if you have wasted the loyalty of those who follow."

It seemed like every time I almost – _almost_ – forgot just who he was, Thorin Oakenshield would show me again. And damn if I wouldn't follow this guy to the ends of the earth because of it, too.

I knew I was staring again, though I didn't try to hide it as Thorin glanced over at me when he realized as much. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in question, like he didn't understand why I was so impressed, and I just wound up shaking my head a bit with a smile to say that it was nothing.

The discussion lapsed into silence once more, and while I'm not sure what was going through his mind, I knew what _I_ was curious about. Despite the flush that rose up to my cheeks at the thought, I wanted to ask about his tattoos in return for asking about mine. I hesitated though, despite feeling a little more sober. Was that polite? Did it matter, seeing as how he had done the same thing? I supposed the cases were a little different and that's mostly what was stopping me, but it didn't matter in the end, because my chance to ask about his tattoos that evening was lost.

Below us, a light flickered to life in the garden, and then another on a post beside the bench farther out, illuminating the dark-haired Elf woman who was lighting them. The babbling of the stream was a perfect background noise for reading, so I couldn't blame her for coming out here with a book in her hand. Thorin, of course, was already scowling. I wondered briefly if he was really enjoying our time out here so much or if he was just peeved about Elves interrupting in general, but then the lady turned around and I saw her face. Her pale, beautiful, _very familiar_ face.

I gasped, shooting up from my seat in surprise, forgetting about my delicate glass beside me. The drink toppled off the bench and shattered on the stone, splattering red wine all over the skirt of my dress, and the noise notified the woman that she wasn't alone.

Arwen – _Arwen Undómiel_ – lifted her head to look up at the balcony.

My gaze darted back and forth between Arwen standing in the garden and the broken glass at my feet as I grew flustered, embarrassed at not only my reaction, but the result as well. I dove down, crouching to pick up the larger chunks of my mess. It was only sheer luck that the surrounding banister and the higher angle hid most of my panicked state from the Elf.

Thorin was more than a little confused at my sudden chaos. As far as he was concerned, Arwen was just another pointy-eared immortal. Regardless of how strange I was acting though, he stepped over to assist in my clean up, probably convinced that I was about to accidentally cut myself with how fast I was trying to gather it all.

As he kneeled down to the same level I was at, I stopped picking up glass long enough for our eyes to meet. "Are you alright?" asked Thorin, though there were several questions lying just beneath the surface of the one he chose.

I glanced back over the edge of the veranda at Arwen – who had sat by now, still halfway watching the weird clumsy girl make a moron of herself – and then back to my companion, my nod a little fast. Thorin had followed my gaze and looked to me once more, thankfully understanding the topic could be shelved for a few minutes until we were away from here.

Once we had picked up what glass we could, we vacated the balcony and dropped off the shards in a stupidly-hard-to-find wastebasket. I had seen some surreal shit in Middle Earth, but somehow, none of it could beat doing something so ordinary as trying to find a _trashcan_ with Thorin Oakenshield. Were the inhabitants of Rivendell just against convenience or what?

With the Company's ruckus guiding us better than memory, we returned to the familiar hallway that led to their camping area. Around the corner, I could hear Bofur belting out some ditty about a sheep thinking it was a cloud because a shepherd told it as much. (Yeah, hell if I know.)

Thorin slowed to a stop midway down the hall, and I followed suite, knowing exactly what he wanted. With his arms crossed and his face expectant, Thorin didn't even have to voice the question.

 _'That woman was Elrond's daughter. Arwen,'_ I signed to him. _'She is important in a different story.'_ Pretty harmless information, though 'important' was putting it mildly. It wasn't like she was the future wife of Isildur's Heir or something.

"How so?" Thorin asked, though I could tell regardless of her parentage, he did not overly care about this Elf. Or any. Let's be real.

With a knowing smile, I said, _'Cannot tell you. Story is in the future.'_

This only succeeded in making his brows furrow slightly, probably wondering what the point in even bringing it up was then.

I thought for a moment, recalling the other night. _'Remember Galadriel?'_

"Aye, the Elf witch," Thorin said a little bit more suspiciously.

 _'Arwen is her granddaughter,'_ I told him.

This elicited some sort of interest, at least, and the King asked in a salty tone, "Does she, too, read the minds of others without their permission?"

My coughing snickers as I shook my head were not appreciated, judging by the look he gave, which only made me smile more. However, though Thorin tried to keep his face unimpressed, the amusement at my lightheartedness on the subject remained visible in his eyes.

I was enjoying this. Us. Hanging out. Being friends and shit.

When I realized I had been staring at his lovely blue eyes for a fraction longer than normal, I turned my gaze down the hall, probably too fast to be inconspicuous. Trying to act casual, I incorporated the turn into a head tilt, suggesting we carry on to where the others were again.

Thorin gave a nod and we continued, though whether or not he noticed anything out the ordinary with my awkward behavior, I couldn't say. I was always a little awkward.

The rest of the Company were caught up arguing over what song Bofur should go for next, yelling out suggestions that I obviously didn't recognize the titles of. Thorin and I parted ways, with him heading back to his former seat, and me trying to wrestle my way back into the circle, grabbing a stray glass of wine that was about to get knocked over. Though, looking around and noting two or three other broken glasses on the ground, I didn't feel quite as bad about my own mishap anymore. Maybe this was why Dwarves seemed to favor mugs.

I tried to focus on the boisterous Bofur, perhaps a little tipsy himself by now, singing alongside Nori, though the latter was doing an entirely different tune. They squabbled in between lyrics as they pushed one another, making it hard to understand what either song was supposed to be about.

 _"Over river stays the man_ – you just wait yer turn now! – _with seven doves and –"_

" –no, no, this one's a classic – _With naught but robe, the lady danced and to him strode –"_

" – What're ye doing? Classic it may be, but we're in mixed company!"

"It's just a bit of culture!"

"Culture my – pick somethin' else! Like this, if you'd just – _And two wrinkled hands! 'So old, so old,' the doves sang one morn –"_

And it just kept going.

Despite this mayhem that should have been a thorough distraction, my thoughts kept gravitating towards that side of the room where I knew Thorin was at. Repeatedly, I kept telling myself that my idiocy was nothing. My reactions were normal because yes, he was a very brave, attractive, strong-willed individual who would do anything for his people, and yes, I _did_ get attached to things too easily, but that _wasn't the point –_

 _You're just glad because he knows about the story now, that's all. Stop over-thinking this,_ I mentally insisted. Of course, trying not to think of something only makes you think of it more.

Promptly, I began downing wine with a new vigor, despite the fact that I had no idea who this glass belonged to. Cooties be damned, there was simply not enough alcohol in my system to deal with these thoughts. I may have been dumber than a bowl of rocks sometimes, but I knew the signs. I knew what was trying to sprout in my little potato heart.

However, I was not – under any circumstances – allowed to fall for Thorin Oakenshield.

* * *

 _ **;)**_

 _ **I was tempted to just call this chapter The Fanservice, but figured that would be too blunt.**_

 _ **You are all absolute dears and this story just wouldn't be possible without your support. As always, I'll ask for your thoughts on the chapter, cuz that's what I'm best at. We're finally getting to some romance? What?! LoL well, maybe not romance yet, but the stirrings of something, anyway. ;)**_

 _ **Also, concerning the Iglishmêk thing. A lot of you have mentioned it, and I myself agree that she learned it a little too fast, but I only realized as these chapters came up. The plot was demanding her competency with the Iglishmêk a lot sooner than I planned, and… yeah. I'm only human, so thank you guys for being so nice and actually leaving constructive messages about it. :)**_

 _ **Also also: If you're wondering when the ever-loving-hell they're going to leave Rivendell – it's the next chapter. They're leaving in the next chapter, I swear. I think we're ALL tired of Rivendell at this point, so don't worry. XD**_

 _ **Hopefully I won't be gone so long this time. I've missed this story.**_

 _ **Until next time, folks! :)**_


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